A Little Bit of Texas: Speed
by Dragonflier
Summary: There's a new detective on the force, and she's got Speed's attention. Some language, some violent crime, some sex.
1. Disclosure and Tidbits

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Disclosure & Tidbits

I've got a lot to disclose, so bear with me.

First off, none of the names you can recognize belong to me. Bruckheimer, CBS, the writers and the actors are the rightful owners; I'm just playing in their sandbox.

TIMING: I started writing this six months ago, or thereabouts. Long before Rory Cochrane announced he was leaving the show, long before Speedle got killed off. I have decided I don't like the idea of a dead Tim Speedle, so that never happened in my story, and it never will. Especially since Tim, in my story, gets to be friends with a cop, and she would never allow him to walk around with a dirty gun. In fact, there is a whole scene about her convincing him to keep his gun clean.

LENGTH WARNING: This story is amazedly and obscenely long. It just kind of turned out that way. I do apologize, and I hope if you do read my story it will entertain you through the whole length. It's because I wanted both a crime and a relationship, and then the crimes helped build the relationships, and then ... it kind of exploded.

MIAMI?: The club Secrets is based on an idea I had for a club, if I were to ever open one. There is no place like it in reality (that I know of.) Parrot Island and the Japanese botanical gardens attached to it are real. There really is a restaurant in those gardens, but I'm not sure if it's opened yet. _YaMans_ is made up, as are the names of the bands that play there. Bayfront Park is a real park in Miami's downtown area, but I made up the fountains.

The story is rated R for violence, descriptions of bodies, language, and sex. This story has the first sex scenes I've ever written, so please 1. Do tell me how to improve them and 2. Be gentle.


	2. Part One

Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part One

"Why are you such an asshole?"

"I'm not an asshole, I'm a bitch. Can't you get anything right?"

Tim Speedle thought the man might actually take a swing at the woman, who had a look of disgusted contempt on her face. He recognized the man, a detective on the police force. Speed had never worked with him, though. He had been banned from CSI cases years ago, for trying to tamper with evidence. How this guy, _what was his name?_, managed to keep his detective badge, much less his job, was beyond belief. _Adamson, that was it, Christian Adamson. _

The woman he didn't know, but she was wearing a gun on her hip inside the police station, so she must be a detective as well. Unlike most of the detectives, who wore suits of one kind or another, she was in jeans with a tucked-in T-shirt. Presumably she had a jacket somewhere to cover her gun from the public eye when she went out. He thought he heard an accent to her voice, similar to Calleigh's but not quite the same.

There was a group surreptitiously surrounding the two, watching the argument like it was a sporting event. Speedle wondered vaguely if any of them had placed bets.

Adamson said something quietly to the woman, too low for anyone else to hear, and stalked off. The woman stared after him a moment, hands clenched into fists, then turned to walk in the opposite direction. When she saw she had an audience, she hesitated then walked on.

"What was that about?" Speed asked the nearest police officer, a uniformed man.

"I don't know, but I think I like that new detective," the man was grinning while he said it.

"Not an Adamson fan?" Speed asked.

"That man has no fans. Most of us have learned to ignore him, but it's nice to see someone stand up to him for a change. I've gotta go, I'm on patrol soon, and I want to spread the word a little before I'm on the street."

Old-lady grapevines had nothing on police stations when it came to gossip. Speed shook his head and went to find Detective Frank Tripp.

Tim found Tripp at his desk, on the phone. Speed sat in the visitor's chair, slouched back, and waited for Tripp to finish his call. He put the manila envelope he had brought onto the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

Tripp hung up, picked up the envelope and looked at Speedle. "That's not a happy look on your face, Speed. Of course, I can't actually remember a time I've seen you look happy."

"Oh, funny. Try to keep that humor, you're going to need it. The DA says we don't have enough to convict."

"What?" Frank yelled. "How can that be? You've linked the fibers. We have an actual videotape of him buying the equipment he used in the robbery."

"You know, that's not a happy look on your face," Speed said, his head tilted to the side.

"Shut it, Speedle. Why won't he prosecute?"

Speed was watching Tripp's face get more and more red. He decided he wouldn't ask how to answer the question and 'shut it' at the same time. Tripp looked dangerously close to having a stroke at the moment, and Speed would hate to be the one to push him over.

"It's not the perp, it's the lawyer. The district attorney's office has lost the last three times it's gone up against Harrison Glithe, and they aren't going to take a chance again. What I want to know is: how our two-bit robber can afford Mr. Glithe's services?"

Tripp looked at him a moment. "That's something I can look into. It doesn't really matter one way or another at this point, but I'd be interested in knowing the answer. I'll let you know what I find."

"All right."

As he was leaving he passed the new detective, the one who was in the argument earlier. He noticed that her hair was brown and long, pulled back into a ponytail. She wore only a little makeup. Her face was normal, even a little forgettable. She had on a silver necklace with the pendant dropped behind her top, so he couldn't tell what it was. She was average in height, average in build. Even her clothing was designed to blend in. People will notice a cop in a suit, and everyone noticed a cop in uniform, and that helped someone in jeans and a shirt fade into the background. She wore her badge on a chain around her neck. All this took only a second to his detail-oriented mind, and then she was past him.

He was mildly curious about who she was, why she was arguing with Adamson, and why he had never seen her before.

* * *

Several days later when Speed went into the break room, he walked into a conversation between Alexx, Delko and Calleigh. Conversation may not be the correct word for it though. It was basically some kind of elementary school argument.

"She did not!" This from Calleigh.

"She did too!" Alexx said.

"Right to his face?" Calleigh asked.

"Right to his face," Eric said, deciding to join in.

"What did H do?" Calleigh asked.

"He said nobody else minded," Alexx said.

"And then what?" Calleigh said.

"You know, I haven't heard banter like this since I was in middle school. What's going on?" Speed asked.

"You know that new detective, Dayna Campbell? She was first on the scene on our latest case," Eric told him.

"Oh yeah, I saw her the other day. So what's the big deal?" Speed asked.

"She told H off," Eric said.

"What? Nobody does that. Horatio even has internal affairs walking softly around him. What happened?"

"Apparently she got upset at him taking over the case," Eric said.

"What'd she tell him?" Speed asked.

"She told him she wasn't his sidekick," Eric said.

"Whoa. That's when he said 'nobody else minded'?" Speed asked.

"Yeah. And then she said 'That's fine, and that's them.' Then she told him if that's the way it worked, he could get off HER case and go find one of his tame detectives. She would solve it on her own," Eric said, eyebrows raised.

"She said this to him? In front of everybody?" Speed couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"No, she asked to speak to him privately. But I had found the gun and wanted to let him know, and Alexx was just on the other side of the Hummer," Eric explained.

Alexx spoke up, "I walked up after they started talking, then didn't want to leave in case they noticed. I couldn't believe my ears. I'm still having a hard time."

In spite of himself Speed was fascinated, "So then what?"

Alexx continued with the story, "Horatio said, 'I am a lieutenant, you know.' Campbell told him 'Yeah, a lieutenant on a case I'm primary investigator on. That makes us partners for the time being. Or you can pull rank and have me replaced. But if you're going to work with me, then you're going to work with me."

There was a pause until Calleigh exploded, "And? Did he annihilate her?"

"I don't know, I couldn't hear anymore," Alexx said.

"What? Alexx you're killing me!" Calleigh hollered.

"That's all I heard. But when they came out from behind the Hummer, Campbell was still on the case," Alexx said.

Eric broke in, "And that's not all. Alexx went with the body, and I was showing H the gun, and out of nowhere he told me 'You know that new detective? I'm going to like working with her.' And then he actually smiled."

Calleigh was wide-eyed, like a kid listening to a fairy tale. "So she mouthed off to Horatio, and not only did he not eviscerate her, but now they're...what? buddies?"

"Apparently so," Eric said.

Speed said, "Nah. I don't buy it. She may have surprised him, but I don't buy Horatio Caine being buddies with anyone."

"Alright, Tim, buddies might not be the right word. But I think she earned more respect from him in two minutes than most detectives have after years of working with us," Alexx said.

"Hell, I respect her for having the balls...erum, the backbone to stand up to him in the first place. H can be intimidating. We've all seen him in the interrogation room," Eric shot a glance at Calleigh for his anatomical reference. She waved it off.

"I'll respect her after the case is solved. You can tell us how she did," Speed grabbed his soda and walked out of the room.

In twenty-four hours, Eric had the answer for Speed.

"Man, I don't know how she figured it. Do you know where our perp was? He went and crashed at his sister-in-law's brother's house. Campbell found him. His brother's wife's brother! How the hell she thought of that, I have no idea."

It was about a week later, and Speedle was having lunch in the break room when Calleigh came in, stormy weather on her face.

* * *

"Hey Cal," Speedle said, "I thought you were out on a call with H."

Calleigh shut the refrigerator door with more force than was absolutely necessary, "H called me on the cell phone and sent me back. He said that he and Campbell could handle it, and he wanted me here."

Speed's forehead creased, "Huh. That's strange. Is it an open and shut case?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was cut out before I got there," Calleigh said as she opened her soda.

Horatio included both Calleigh and Speedle in the science of the case. Calleigh was on hand to receive some bullets from the scene, and Speed got a beige powder. Speed ran the tests, tracked down his lieutenant, and gave his results.

"It's legal. That is, it's a designer drug, and it hasn't hit the legal radar yet," he said.

Horatio looked at him and sighed, "Okay. Let's figure out what the reaction will be."

"Already done," said Speedle. "It's a stimulant, highly addictive. It'll increase the strength of a person, as well as the pain tolerance, so if you find someone who's flying on it, it's going to be hard to take him down."

"All right, that makes sense," Horatio said.

"Lieutenant Horatio Caine?" a male voice from down the hall called. Speedle and Caine both looked around, and saw a large Caucasian man in a dark suit and tie walking towards them.

"I'm betting you're with the DEA, aren't you?" Horatio said to the stranger. Then he turned back to Speedle, "Thank you Speed. Good work."

That was the last time Speed saw Horatio for several days, something that had never happened in the crime lab since Horatio took over from Megan Donner a few years ago. Speedle couldn't even remember Caine taking any vacation time since he left the bomb squad to become head of CSI. The team knew he wasn't hurt or missing; he would call in everyday to make sure his people were all right, and that crimes were being solved in his absence. The calls were frustratingly short, simply telling them he was fine and asking for an update. He never gave a hint as to what he was doing, or when he would be back.

Calleigh actually screamed at the dead phone after her phone call on the second day he was gone. She was in the break room with both Tim and Eric at the time, and Tim thought their presence was the only thing that stopped her from throwing the phone against the wall.

"Hey, Cal, it's okay. We're all worried, but he knows what he's doing," Eric tried to soothe the blonde's feelings.

"I was supposed to be working on this case with him. He should have one of us there. He's got no one to watch his back," she said.

"Have you talked to Bethany yet?" Speed asked. Bethany was Horatio's girlfriend, and she and Calleigh had become good friends.

"Yes. She knows that H is doing something with the DEA, she knows he's working with that new detective Campbell, and that's it. He hasn't been to see her since this thing started, but she gets a phone call every couple of hours. She's getting a little scared, to tell the truth. Horatio doesn't usually keep things from her."

"Has anyone tried to get in touch with Campbell?" was the next question Speed asked.

Eric answered him, "I tried earlier. She's pulled the same disappearing act H has."

"So there's nothing we can do to help him?" Calleigh asked the room in general.

"We just have to trust if he needs us, he'll let us know," Eric said.

"That's just not enough," Calleigh said as she stormed out of the room.

"What's her problem?" Eric asked Speed, sitting down at the table with his fresh cup of coffee.

Speed shrugged from his slumped position on the couch. "Someone she cares about is in a bad situation and she's not being allowed to help. It's driving her crazy," he said.

"That's true for all of us, but H can take care of himself, and she knows it," Eric said.

"Yeah, but Calleigh's a woman. They feel things differently than we do," Speed said, then he grinned at Eric. "That's why we'll never hope to understand them. It's part of what makes the whole boy/girl thing so much fun."

"Or like walking through a minefield blind," Eric said

"Yeah. That too." Speed unfolded himself from the couch and stood up, "I'm going to see if audio has finished with the tape from Yelina's case."

It was a few days after that Horatio showed up back at the lab. He walked into Speed's lab in the morning and asked for the update on his current caseload.

"I've got trace from three scenes right now. A double homicide, an apparent suicide and a hit and run," Tim said.

"Do you need my help on any of them?" Horatio asked, looking at the crime scene sketches that were on the table.

"Nah, I've got it covered," Tim said. "So, what happened with the case that you were working on?"

"The good news is that it's over," H said. He was about to say more when Calleigh and Eric came into the room, both smiling hugely at seeing their boss back.

"What was the mystery all about?" Calleigh asked, after actually giving H a hug. Eric grinned seeing that, restraining himself to shaking Caine's hand.

"There was a new designer drug out there that had the DEA panicking. The first body was found here. Campbell and I were first on the scene, and we realized what we had on our hands when I recognized the victim as a former lieutenant from narcotics. Between the DEA, the narcotics division and eventually one of the cartels I was going to be getting a lot of people very, very upset with me. I wanted to limit the number of targets they had to aim for."

"What about the new detective, Dayna Campbell? Did she work on it with you?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah, but Campbell can take care of herself. She's gone up against the DEA before."

Speedle watched Calleigh's face harden slightly.

"So what was the result of the investigation?" Tim asked, wondering at Calleigh's reaction.

Horatio said, "An undercover DEA agent had turned dirty. He was making money off of the new drug. We caught him last night. Dayna had to shoot him, but he's expected to recover."

"So everything's back to normal?" Eric asked.

"Let's hope so. It's good to be back where I belong," Horatio said.


	3. Part Two

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Two

A couple of weeks later Speed and Calleigh showed up at a crime scene, and walked into their first case with Detective Dayna Campbell.

"CSI?" was the first thing she said when she saw the pair walking into the apartment.

"That's right. I'm Calleigh Duquesne and this is Tim Speedle," Calleigh held out her hand to the detective.

The detective shook hands with Calleigh, saying, "Please call me Dayna. Good to meet you," then shook with Tim. "Glad to know you."

She once again had her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing black jeans and a scooped neck grey t-shirt tucked in. The badge was still on a chain around her neck, and Speed could see a silver chain around her neck, but still couldn't see the pendant. She had on mascara and lipstick, but no other make-up. She had pierced ears; a single jade stud in each ear. Standing next to her Speed could smell her perfume, which was a subtle floral scent, reminding him of honeysuckle.

While Calleigh and Speed opened up their cases and got ready to start working the scene Speed looked up at Dayna, "What've we got?"

Dayna's eyebrows drew down slightly as she said, "What it looks like is a murder/suicide. Apparently the husband, a man named Kirk Grear, came home last night, shot his wife Cathy, then himself."

"Neighbors hear the shots?"

"Nope, no one heard anything. The kid who cleans the pool called it in. He was working and happened to look in the window. When you get to the room you'll see feathers everywhere. That could explain the lack of noise."

"We'll get to work." Calleigh said.

Speed hesitated, looking at the detective, who was faintly frowning as she stared into the hallway leading to the crime scene.

"Something, Detective?"

She snapped out of her contemplation, focusing her eyes on him, "Dayna. I don't know yet. I think I'm making this more complicated than it needs to be." She started walking with him to the room, "It just feels a little too neat to me."

When Speed looked into the room all he could see at first glance were feathers and blood, covering most of the room. There was blood spatter high up on the wall to the right, with feathers mixed into the gore. His eyes followed the wall down, and saw the body of a man, the back of his head missing. Across the room, to the left, Alexx knelt next to the body of a woman. More blood covered the sofa behind her, and more feathers. Feathers had drifted between the two bodies as well, blessedly free from red stain.

Dayna turned to Speed, "Neat in more of a metaphorical sense, I mean."

Speed looked at her for a second, the side of his mouth twitching, then went in and got to work.

Dayna stopped at the threshold of the room, "Do you have anything yet, Alexx?"

"Liver temp on this one puts the time of death between one and four a.m."

"And the man?"

"Haven't gotten to him yet, sugar."

"Right. Sorry. I'll just wait right here until you get done."

Alexx looked at Dayna, standing in the doorway, arms crossed across her chest, "Is there something bothering you?"

"Yeah. Trouble is, I don't know what it is yet. Just keep your eye out for something...just something, okay?"

"Always do," Alexx said with a smile. "Why don't you see if the transport for the bodies has arrived yet?"

"Translation: Get out of your hair. You got it," Dayna walked away from the room.

"Where does she get off, telling you how to do your job?" Calleigh asked angrily as soon as Dayna was out of earshot.

"I don't think she meant anything by it. I think she's got a feeling, and there's no way for her to follow up on it until we get done. You have a problem waiting on other people too, Calleigh, so you should know how it is," Alexx gently chided her, walking over to the man's body.

"I know, but I don't tell people how to do their jobs."

Speed stopped taking pictures for a minute, "Well, there was that time you told me how to process a mask."

"Okay, you know what, let's just all get back to work."

Dayna came back with the transporters a few minutes later. Alexx had finished her preliminary investigation by that time, and the bodies could be moved to the post-mortem theater.

Dayna looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Keith's liver temp was the same as Cathy's. It's the same time window. I'll page you when I have something more for you."

"Hey Alexx," Speed called out, and then looked at her questioningly.

"I'll page everybody, okay?" Alexx smiled, shaking her head, as she followed the transporters out of the room.

"I'll get out of here before I step on anyone else's toes. I'll call y'all in a few hours, see if anything has turned up."

Speed nodded at her, then turned back to his work. Calleigh hadn't even acknowledged her leaving.

Back at the lab, Speed and Calleigh started on the evidence they had collected. They had gathered enough to keep them busy for several days. If nothing appeared soon to contradict the apparent murder/suicide angle, however, they wouldn't end up processing all of it. Other crimes that needed their skills where happening all the time in Miami, and this appeared to be an open and shut case. GSR was found on the hand of Kirk, and nothing in the evidence appeared out of the ordinary until the blood results came in.

When Dayna called Speed told her the news.

"Ruffies?" Dayna asked. "Both of them?"

"Yeah. That will make it harder to track down. It's very popular here; the date-rape drug of choice in Miami. With these levels in the blood they both would have been incapacitated. Keith couldn't have killed Cathy or himself."

"Okay, so what evidence do we have of a third...Speedle, hold on a sec," Her voice sounded like she had moved the phone down, away from her mouth, but hadn't covered the mouthpiece. "Yeah, he's still in there. We're going in as soon as the warrant is signed." She spoke to Speed again, "'Kay, I'm back."

"What's going on?"

"One of my other cases. It might even be wrapping up tonight, if all goes well. Have you found anything we can link to a third person?"

"Not yet, but we still have plenty to go through," Speed replied.

"How much longer are y'all going to be there?"

"I don't know. I'll be here a couple more hours, probably. I don't know about Calleigh."

"I don't think I'll be done here before then. I'll come by the lab first thing in the morning to coordinate the next steps. Thanks for the info, Speedle. See you then," Dayna hung up.

Calleigh looked at Speed, already looking hostile around her eyes, "Well?"

"She's coming by the lab tomorrow morning so we can all talk about where to go from here," Speed told her.

"Oh, good, I can hardly wait. We sure wouldn't know what to do next without her here," Calleigh said sarcastically.

Speed looked at her for a second. Then, "Okay, so why exactly are you so down on her?"

"She thinks she can come here and just take over!" Calleigh looked a little surprised at her own vehemence.

"Really? It hasn't seemed that way to me."

"She's got you fooled just like everyone else," Calleigh started to sound a little sulky, and Speed knew that would upset her more than even the new detective did. "Look, I don't know why I don't like her, or don't like working with her, but...I just don't."

"She seems to respect the evidence. That's more than a lot of detectives do. Even Hagen wants to ignore it on occasion, and he knows how often it breaks the cases."

"That's pretty much why we broke up. There's just something about her."

"Hey, maybe she just reminds you of someone who was mean to you as a kid or something," Speed decided to lighten the discussion up a little, hoping for a smile.

Calleigh did laugh a little, "That must be it. I'll try and figure it out later. Right now I want to finish up this run of tests and go home."

Calleigh left a little later, but Speed was there for hours more. It was worth it though; he found trace of a third person.

* * *

The next morning Speed was the last to arrive. There was no conversation in the room: the machine sounds of the lab, Calleigh walking between the machines, and Dayna's coffee mug being put on the counter abnormally loud in the room. Calleigh was running tests, while Dayna was going over reports.

Speed looked like hell, hair still wet from a morning shower, stubble thicker than normal on his face, and his eyes slightly blurry from sleep cut too short. Still, he looked better then the homicide detective. Dayna Campbell could be an entry into a walking dead contest. She obviously hadn't taken a shower yet; her hair was dirty and lank in her ever-present ponytail. She has smudges of dark skin under her heavily lidded eyes, and was wearing the same clothes as she had on the last time the CSIs had seen her, at the Grear crime scene early yesterday. They were now remarkable wrinkled, however. She was fighting back against the grey wave of sleep her body needed, judging from the coffee mug clenched in her right hand, and the empty can of Jolt cola next to her.

Speed could finally see what was on her necklace. It was a small silver pendent in the shape of Texas.

"So, you moved here from Texas?"

"Huh?" Dayna looked at him a little blurrily, her fingers reaching up to touch the pendent, almost like it was a talisman, "Oh. Yeah, I'm from Texas."

"So what brings you to Miami?" Speed asked.

Dayna looked at him a moment, then managed a small, tired smile, "The great state of Texas asked me to leave. Apparently I managed to piss off 51 of the population, and they voted me out." Dayna interrupted herself with a huge yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. "Excuse me. The interrogation took longer than expected. I haven't had any sleep yet, please forgive me if I don't contribute much to today's brain storming."

"So why are you here at all?" Calleigh asked her.

"I need to know what direction we're going to take, so I can keep up my end of the investigation."

"And you couldn't have done that with a phone call?" Calleigh retorted.

"I usually like to keep as much human contact as possible," Dayna replied, her face hardening under the layer of fatigue. "Is that all right with you?"

Calleigh opened her mouth to respond, but Speed stepped in. Every instinct he had screamed at him not to wade into a brewing catfight, but he had news and there was a case that needed to be worked.

"Yesterday we found some hair on the sofa. It's black hair and it's from a third party. The DNA marks it as male."

"So all we have to do is find the men in their lives with black hair and compare DNA," Calleigh said.

"Yeah," Speed continued to take the lead. "Calleigh and I will go back to the house and go through the other rooms, see what we can find."

"Right. I'll go through their phone records and the bills. See if there's anything that turns up there," Dayna said.

"Go home and get some sleep first, or you could miss something," Speed told her.

"Heh. Right now I wouldn't recognize a clue if I fell over it. I'll call if I find anything," Dayna nodded at Speed. She looked at Calleigh, "Duquesne" she said, then she left the lab.

"Calleigh, what the hell?" Speed asked when Dayna had left the room.

"Speed, leave it alone. I don't like her."

"You don't know her, and besides that, I've seen you treat murderers with more respect then you've been showing to one of our own, and she's been doing everything right."

"Alright Speed, I get it. Let's just get back to the house, all right? And I'll work on the way I react to the amazing Detective Campbell."

"Sure. Sounds good," Speed said, then started grumbling to himself, "Hey, when did I become the diplomatic one? I don't like it, it's against the natural order."

The CSIs were finally getting finished with the house, right around sunset. Campbell had called a couple of hours earlier, telling them to look for evidence of a boyfriend. On Cathy's personal credit card there were hotel charges, romantic restaurants, and lingerie purchases. Dayna had taken a photo of Cathy to the hotels listed on the bill, and she had been described as being the company of a tall, white man with black hair. Once they knew what to look for Calleigh and Speed had found plenty to corroborate the existence of the boyfriend in the house, including hidden letters and x-rated photos.

"Why keep this stuff in the house where you husband could find it?" Speed asked disgustedly.

"Maybe she wanted him too. Sometimes women stray when they aren't getting the attention they need at home. Sort of like kids acting up when there's a new baby in the house," Calleigh suggested.

"That's messed up. You want you husband to pay attention to you, so you sleep with another man? Isn't that kind of like beating your wife to show her you care?" Speed shook his head.

Calleigh's phone started ringing, interrupting whatever she was about to say. "Duquesne," she listened a moment, then walked out of the room. Speed looked after her a second, pretty sure he knew what the phone call was about. Part of the problem working with CSIs day in and day out is that you are left with very little privacy. Calleigh tried hard not to let people know her father had a drinking problem, but really the whole building sympathized. No one said anything, knowing that it would be horribly embarrassing to the blonde.

When Calleigh came back into the room, Speed was packing up the equipment. "I think we've done all we can do today," Speed said to Calleigh. "I know I'm ready to head home. I'll drop this stuff off the lab, then call it a day. We'll start figuring out who the boyfriend is first thing tomorrow. With the sheer volume of stuff we have here, we'll find him in no time at all."

Calleigh gave Tim a relieved smile. "That sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."

* * *

It was a little past 'bright and early' in the morning when Calleigh managed to come in. While normally a morning person, the southerner's genuine smile was incongruous to the sleepiness in her eyes.

"Late night?" Speed asked, wanting to help, but knowing that Calleigh could be sensitive when it came to her father.

"You have no idea. Hey, I wanted to let you know you were right." Calleigh started. Whatever she was about to admit to was derailed when a detective breezed into the room. Undoubtedly one of the most attractive women on the police force, Detective Yelina Salas had a warm smile for both of the criminalists in the room.

"Hey, Yelina. Always a pleasure. What brings you into our neighborhood this morning?" Calleigh asked.

"Looking for you actually. I have some bullets for you to work on. I was going to ask you to put a rush on it, if you possibly can. I don't know how long we can keep this guy where we can see him, and the sooner you can get me the results, the sooner we can arrest him once and for all," Yelina explained in her accented voice.

Calleigh looked at Speed, who shrugged.

He said, "You might as well go ahead. I'll get started on this stuff."

"Thanks Speed," Calleigh said, taking the evidence envelope from Yelina. "This shouldn't take too long, and then I'll come back and help you."

"That's fine. Campbell will probably come by and help read through the paperwork."

Yelina raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Texan, "She's the detective on your current case? Well. That must be fun."

Speed's forehead furrowed as he looked at the Cuban-America, "I don't get what you mean."

"She quite a handful, everyone's noticed," Yelina explained. "Nothing is every good enough for her, unless it's been personally been handled by her."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed," Speed started walking out the room, expecting Yelina and Calleigh to start a mutual bashing society. He didn't want to deal with it this time of the morning. He stopped mid-stride when Calleigh started speaking.

"She's just focused on getting the job done right," Calleigh said, prompting Speed to wonder if this was all a dream he was having.

"What she's focused on is herself," Yelina snorted.

"Well, I can see why you would think that. She has made quite a splash," Calleigh tried to change the subject. "So is this from the case you're working on with H and Delko."

"Quite a splash? She's a hotdog, she doesn't care about the victim, all she cares about is another checkmark on her cleared case list."

"Now, that's just not true. She cares about the victims, maybe even a little too much. Listen Yelina, I would have been the first to agree with you, but she's a good cop, and a good person. Now let's drop the subject. Tell me about the bullet." Calleigh was using the same body language Speed had seen when watching her with a suspect she was getting angry with: a stubborn insistence on professionalism when what she really wanted to do was start yelling. Speed realized he was staring at Calleigh, eyebrows almost to his hairline, disbelief freezing his face.

"Come on Calleigh, her own police department didn't want her. She screwed up so badly she was not only thrown off her own force, she was thrown out of her beloved state. She came her begging for a job, and someone high on the ladder was stupid enough to give her a second chance," Yelina's accent almost managed to make her voice sound sweet. Almost, but not quite. Venom soured her normally pleasant demeanor, turning a beautiful woman into something dark around her edges.

_How can such a gorgeous woman suddenly be so unattractive?_ Speed wondered, safely within his own mind.

To his everlasting amazement, Calleigh lost her temper. He had never seen it happen before, and couldn't believe what he was hearing as Calleigh lashed out.

"You can have whatever opinion about Dayna Campbell you want, Salas. It's not going to matter to her. It's not going to matter to anyone else, either because everyone, and I mean everyone can see what the real problem you have with Campbell is. You're jealous."

"Jealous?" Yelina's Cuban temper was short and hot, and met Calleigh's southern heat head on. "She's nothing and nobody. She's thinks she's the best, and that means she's going to get a lot of people hurt when she finds out that she's not. Reality is the best teacher of all, and I hope you're not standing next to her when the lesson comes."

"I'll stand next to her any day, Detective, because she's a hell of a cop, with fantastic instincts. On her worst day she's more of a detective than you'll ever be. All you do is nod your head and agree with whatever Horatio happens to be saying at any given time," Calleigh's eyes had narrowed, chest heaving as if she were in a physical fight, instead of a shouting match. "What makes it even sadder is that H doesn't respect you for agreeing with him. You may be his family, but he already respects Campbell more than he ever will you, simply because she had the guts to stand up to him. He'll always think of you as Ray's wife, no more. You can't even impress him professionally." With all the instincts of a predator, Calleigh attacked at Yelina's most vulnerable spot, not noticeably pulling any punches.

She stopped Yelina cold, the taller woman staring at the petite blonde. Her brown eyes filled with pain, and she took a deep breath, "You'll call me with the results on the bullets, won't you?" She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

Speed thought about asking Calleigh about her reaction, but decided to become all business until everything had time to settle down, from Calleigh's temper to his nerves.

He walked back to the table from his position at the door, and picked up the first letter. He started reading the letter, concentrating on the writing so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if he suddenly developed tunnel vision.

Calleigh picked up a different letter, also reading with an intensity she normally reserved for comparing bullets. There was a thick silence in the room, starting to suffocate them, when Campbell came into the room.

Speed began to wonder if he would ever see the detective well rested. While she looked better than she had twenty-four hours before, she still had bloodshot eyes and the slightly weaving tread of the truly exhausted. Speed had been in the same condition himself too many times to count. Too much work on too little sleep; the only cure was to crash hard and stay asleep until your body repaired the damage. Speed wondered how long she had been ingesting caffeine, how much her skills were degrading with every passing hour.

Calleigh was thinking along the same lines. "Did you get any sleep at all?" she asked. The way she asked the question surprised Speed. She sounded exactly like a woman who was worried about her friend's condition—hell, she had asked him that exact question in that exact tone at least once a month, when he pulled an all-nighter at the lab.

Dayna smiled at the blonde, "Yeah, I slept some. I've got some serious downtime coming to me in about 3 hours. I can hold out until then, as long as I don't have to do anything that required the slightest hand-eye coordination. I picked up a cold espresso double-shot so I can I can get my caffeine through a straw. I honestly believe I could miss my mouth right now." Dayna pulled the small can out of her purse, along with the straw.

Speed realized his mouth was slightly opened. _Women. You never know from one minute to the next what the hell they're going to do._

Shaking his head, Speed handed over a portion of the photos, letters, and a magnifying glass to Campbell. The three settled into a routine of looking at the memorabilia, calling out anything that could lead to the identity of the boyfriend. After two hours they knew the couple had met at the gym, that the man knew Cathy was married, and he had one tattoo on his hip (a black devil with horns and wings) and another on his upper right arm (tribal scrollwork in red and black.)

Campbell pulled out the papers she had been working on independently the day before. She went through the numerous credit card statements until she found the ones with the two gyms on it.

"His and her gyms. I wonder which is which?" Calleigh asked.

"Should be easy enough to find out." Dayna stretched, then looked at her watch. "They should be open right now, right?"

All it took was two phone calls to find out that Cathy had belonged to: "Bodywerks," a temple to body worshippers in Miami.

"So all we have to do is show his picture around and see if we can get a name," Calleigh said.

"You know, most of these places have a photo database. I wonder if we fax the photo over there if we can get the name faster?" Speed suggested.

"I dunno. Are there any that show his face?" Dayna asked, remembering the graphic subject matter of the photos.

"Wait, I think I have one in my stack," Calleigh found a non-pornographic photo, and they faxed it over.

The gym personnel on shift did not know his name, which made it impossible to match him up in the database. They didn't have a way to pull up a membership based on a picture, or indeed any way to give a list of just the male members in the right age and race range.

They did catch a break, however. One of the trainers recognized the man in the photo as someone she saw in the mornings, usually between 8 and 10.

"So we'll be there by 8 tomorrow morning, see if we can get a name off his picture, and maybe we'll get lucky with a personal appearance," Speed said. He looked at Dayna, "That should give you plenty of down time. Do you have to do anything else before you head home?"

"I've got some reports that I just need to turn into my lieutenant, and then it's straight home, straight to sleep. Hell, the way I feel right now, I might pull a Sleeping Beauty. 100 years sounds just about right. If that falls through, I'll meet you at the gym tomorrow at 8," waving over her shoulder, Dayna left.

Calleigh busied herself cleaning up the evidence and putting it away correctly. Speed stared at her, arms crossed over his chest, a questioning look on his face.

"Tim, it's not polite to stare," she finally said.

"So, what happened between you and Dayna?"

"Nothing happened, I just realized you were right," Calleigh turned and gave Tim a mega-watt smile, coupled with eyes filled to the brim with innocence and honesty.

Tim snorted, then gave her a look of amused disbelief, "The look, the smile, and telling me I was right? Do you actually think that's going to work? You would have been more convincing if you hit me and told me to go to hell."

Calleigh laughed out loud.

"Come on, let's grab some lunch and you can tell me all about it," Speed offered.

"Tim, some of it's kind of personal."

"In that case, I'm buying. Let's go, Calleigh; you're not getting out of this. You did a one-eighty and I deserve to know why."

"Then we'd better make it dinner, it'll probably take a while."

* * *

They ended up at Hector's. Good Mexican food at good prices, and the best part was that the tourists didn't know about it.

Speed ordered a margarita for Calleigh and a beer for himself. He waited until the waitress had come back with the drinks, and they had placed the order for their entrée. Waiting for the main course to arrive, munching on the chips and salsa, Speed gave Calleigh a stern look.

"So, when you left last night you couldn't stand Campbell," Speed prompted.

"That's a little harsh, Tim."

"But not inaccurate. And then this morning when Yelina started bad-mouthing her you acted like someone was threatening your first-born."

"Yeah, I went overboard with Yelina. I don't know if we'll ever get past that," Calleigh said, sighed, then took a swallow of margarita. "Yesterday, when we were at the house, I got a phone call," she started the story, her eyes down, playing with the stem of her margarita glass with intense concentration, avoiding Speed's eyes.

Tim drank some beer and said, "It was about your father, right?" He wasn't really asking a question.

Calleigh's eyes flew up and met Tim's briefly. Speed shrugged, then nodded.

"You know my father has...a problem. When he gets too drunk to drive he calls me, or more usually someone will fish my card out of his pocket," she paused.

Tim tried to find the right thing to say, "That's rough, Calleigh. I'm sorry. I wish I could help."

She waved him off, "Family. What can you do?" She took a deep breath. "Anyway, most of the time Dad is attracted to nice places like hotel bars or ones in nice restaurants. Last night, though, he ended up at a real dive. He had been talking to a client. He stayed afterwards to have a few, and I eventually got called. It was dark inside, and I don't even want to know what I walked through on that floor. The people in there, Speed, I've never seen such a malevolent group in my life outside of a prison population. I went over to my Dad, and he was so far gone I had to sling one of his arms over my shoulders and hold onto his hand with mine. It was my right hand."

Tim nodded, knowing that her right was her gun hand. He didn't say anything, though, knowing how hard it must be for Calleigh to tell him any of this, and not wanting to interrupt her. He couldn't figure out what Calleigh's dad had to do with Dayna Campbell.

"I had my left arm around his waist. And that's when I got surrounded. I dropped Dad's arm, and went for my gun, but Dad stumbled and started to take me down with him. There were four men, and when they saw what was happening ..." she took a deep breath, "I think they started to close in."

She stopped fiddling with her glass for a second, and looked into the liquid, like someone trying to divine the future in a bowl, "You know I can take care of myself, right? I've been through a lot. I've worked hard to be just as good as the next guy, and even harder at being accepted as good as the next guy."

"Calleigh, you're better than anyone I know at being a criminalist and being a cop. I'm just glad you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me these things," Tim managed to get out.

"It's still really hard to admit it, though. Admit that I was scared. You asked me what made me change my mind about Dayna."

"Huh?" Speed's eyebrows drew down at the apparent non sequitur.

"I was in the bar, off balance, my hands tangled up with my father, thugs all around me. Then from the front entrance I hear a shotgun being pumped." She took another swallow of her drink, "They say that's the loudest sound in the world, that you can hear it through anything." She looked at Speed and smiled, "They're right."

"It was Dayna?"

"It was. She had her back against the wall, next to the front door, shotgun in her hands. She kinda looked around at all the people, and as calm as anything she said 'Hiya, Duquesne.' Everybody in the room was frozen. Then she said 'Duquesne, let this guy and this guy carry your dad.' And she used the barrel to point out two of the guys who were near me. I leaned Dad on the bar, got untangled from him. I felt better once I could reach my gun. The two men each took one of Dad's arms and hauled him out the door. Dayna told me to go with them, that she would watch the room. When the guys went back inside I swear I think I held my breath until she came out. She got into her car and followed me to Dad's place, and helped me put him to bed."

After a few seconds of silence "Why was she at the bar?" popped out of Speed's mouth.

"I asked her that," Calleigh replied. "She had gotten some sleep, then had been running down a lead on one of her other cases. She saw my jeep outside the bar, and figured that anyone in that place would need back-up. So she grabbed her shotgun and eased in, sizing up the situation. When things got tense, she was ready." Calleigh looked grim for a moment, "I gave her no reason to care that I was in there, no reason to help me. She saw that there was a cop in trouble and she dove in. That's why Yelina got me so upset this morning. Dayna's a great cop with great instincts."

"So is that why you two were so tired this morning?" Speed asked.

"Yeah. Dayna and I talked for hours afterwards."

"That's a hell of a way to make a friend, Cal," He observed.

Their food arrived as Calleigh said, "I get the feeling Dayna's a hell of a friend to have."


	4. Part Three

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Three

Morning brought the three of them to the Bodywerks gym, showing the picture, trying to find a name. They didn't really expect the man to show up, just days after his lover was killed. When he walked in it was a surprise, but a welcome one.

The man's name was Michael Genetti, whose occupation was to have fun. His parents had left him a fortune, and Michael loved to spend it on pleasures of the world.

"Married women make the best girlfriends. They are so grateful to someone who gives them the attention they deserve," he said. "You can get them to do just about anything as long as you tell them they're still beautiful, still desirable."

They had brought Michael into the station interrogation room. Speed was handling the questioning, while Calleigh and Dayna watched from the other side of the one-way glass.

"Was Cathy thinking of leaving Keith?" Speed asked the suspect.

"Nah, she would never leave him. She loved him too much, which made her perfect for me. Add on the guilt she felt, which always makes for better sex and faster getaways, and we had the perfect relationship," Michael said. He grinned at Speedle, a genuinely happy smile of a child who got what he wanted for Christmas. Then the smile faded, "I'm bummed she died. That's sucks."

"Yeah, now you have to go out and find some other desperate married woman," Speed said, disgusted. "Let's get to why you're here. Where were you between one and four AM on October 12th?"

"The 12th? That's easy. I was in Arizona. My buddy got married on the 11th," Michael said.

"When did you fly back?" Speedle asked.

"Yesterday. That's when I found out about Cathy."

"You found out your girlfriend was murdered yesterday, and you were ready for a workout this morning?" Speed asked.

Michael looked at him for a second, confused, then said, "Well, yeah. I mean, life goes on, right?"

"Not for the Grear's. Where did you stay in Arizona, and what airline did you fly on?" Speed asked harshly, tired of being in the same room with the man.

Michael pulled the information out of his palm pilot, looking hurt that Tim would doubt his word. Speed walked out of the room, leaving Genetti alone to stew.

Dayna took the information and ran it. She came back looking troubled. "He checks out," she said. "I would love to bust him for something, though. He's just too sleazy to let walk around loose."

"Until they make sleaze a crime, we have to cut him loose," Speed said.

"Well, shit," was the only thing Dayna could think of to say, which made the two CSIs crack up.

"I'll take care of it," said Speed.

"Alright. Why don't we break for lunch, then go back and see if we can't find the actual killer on our third time around," Calleigh said.

Dayna's cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and said, "I've got to take this call, then I'll get something to eat. I'll be back after lunch." She waved over her shoulder as she turned away, raising the phone to her head with the other hand.

Speed went back to the interrogation room. "You're free to go," he said.

"Thanks man. I hope you find who did it. It's a tragedy," Michael said.

"Yeah, I know you'll be crying the night away," said Speedle.

"Huh?" Genetti asked, confused.

"Bye," Speed said.

* * *

Calleigh was eating a sandwich she had brought from home in the break room. Speed grabbed his helmet and headed out to his motorcycle, thinking of buying something at the Italian place down the street.

He had already climbed on his bike when he saw Dayna was still in the parking lot, leaning against her silver Mustang, forehead resting on the roof, her fingertips touching the window of the driver's door.

Speed got off his bike and walked over. "Hey, did you lock yourself out?" he asked when he got close enough to her.

Dayna lifted her head from the roof and swung her purse down from her shoulder into her hand. "No, I've got my keys right here," she said. Her voice sounded strange to Speed, as if she were talking from a distance. He also realized she hadn't looked around at his question.

She started digging in her purse, trying to find the keys, her head bowed, still facing the car, looking into the bag. She finally found the keys and tried to press the unlock button. She dropped them, the keys jingling loudly as they hit the asphalt. She squatted down, picked them up and immediately dropped them again.

She bent down a second time, and Speed bent with her. He saw, as she reached for the keys, that her hand was shaking.

Speed reached out, "Hey." He grabbed the keys from the ground with his left and, placing his right on her upper arm, helped her straighten up while he did the same. "Let me," he said. Dayna nodded.

Speed hit the unlock button on the keypad and opened the door for her. She got in the car and held out her hand, but Speed kept the keys. She finally looked at him, the first time since he walked over to her. Her eyes were glinty with tears, not quite falling yet.

"You can't drive like this. What's wrong?" he asked.

She looked up at him from the driver's seat. "My friend was in a car accident. She's in a hospital in Houston," she said. The tears began to travel down her cheeks. She brushed them off quickly.

"Dayna, I'm so sorry. Is she going to be okay? Do you need me to drive you to the airport?" Speed's mind was already going through the steps. Call the airport and get an emergency ticket to Houston; he could do that from the car. Bring in another detective for the case. John Hagen probably wouldn't be the best for a case Calleigh was on, and Yelina was completely out of the question – asking her to pick up a case of Dayna's would be a bad idea on several different levels, not to mention the recent fight with Cal. He would give Tripp a call when he got back, which would also give him a chance to follow up on the lawyer question from a few weeks back...

His thoughts were stopped cold when he noticed that the only reaction to his questions was to make Dayna cry harder. "Dayna, I'm sorry. I didn't realize your friend was going to...," He reached into his back pocket and got out his handkerchief, pressing it into Dayna's hand.

"She's not," Dayna said, forcing the words to be articulate through her crying. "They think she's going to be fine." She was starting to sound congested, and he face had turned bright red with the force of her crying. When her eyes met Tim's he could see how red the sclera had gotten. _Her eyes are grey._ The thought sprinted through his mind, confusing him. He wondered why he had noticed that now, when he should be thinking about how to help Campbell.

His focus snapped back when Dayna started talking again, hiccoughing the words out, "I can't go home at all. Ever. My best friend is in the hospital, and I can't go see her." She was wiping the tears away with Tim's handkerchief as fast as she could.

Tim hated to see women cry. He never knew what to do. He suspected that had cost him more than one girlfriend, and made it impossible for him to talk to most victims' families. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other a few times, hoping Dayna would get herself under control. He tried to think of a way to leave her to her tears, sure that she was as uncomfortable having a witness as he was watching her. His normally fast thinking failed him, and he just watched helplessly as Dayna cried to herself.

When she calmed down she folded up his handkerchief and put it on her dash. "I'll get that cleaned for you," she said.

"Don't worry about it. Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. It just really hit me hard. A pretty graphic way to realize I can't go back," she said. She sniffed loudly, catching a late tear with her fingertip.

Speed's curiosity fought with his fear of starting her crying again. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Dayna checked her face in the mirror. "I've got to wash my face. I look horrible," she said. "I can't go in there to do it. It's bad enough I've been blubbering right outside the building where anyone could see me. If I walk in there my reputation will be shot forever."

Speed looked at her for a few seconds. "You've been crying in front of me this whole time," he pointed out. Dayna just looked at him. Speed gave up, "Fine, I know a restaurant down the street. You can wash your face, we'll grab lunch, and then you can tell me what's going on ... but only if you don't start crying again."

He actually managed to get a small smile from Dayna with that. She said, "I'm not making any 'no crying' promises, but we can give it a try."

"Why don't I drive?" Speed offered.

"I'm fine to drive, Speedle," Dayna said.

"Oh yeah, I can see that, but I know where the restaurant is. Plus, you know, you're a girl so ... who knows what might set you off again."

He actually got a laugh out of her. He smiled back and held out his right hand, expecting the keys. Dayna reached out and put her left hand in his right, turning the gesture to him helping her out of the car. Since this made him unintentionally gallant he wondered if he should walk her over and get that door for her too.

Dayna said, "I must still be upset if I'm letting someone else drive my car," almost to herself. "Do you know how to drive a manual?"

"Yeah, I'm a guy. Of course I know how to drive manual. Get in."

Driving to the restaurant only took a couple minutes. They walked in and Dayna immediately went to the ladies room. She came out only a few minutes later, her coloring almost back to normal.

They both placed their orders, and Tim felt a sense of déjà vu, remembering sitting with Calleigh, waiting for her to tell her story. "You don't have to talk about it, if it's going to upset you again," Tim said.

"I haven't talked to anyone about it yet. You might as well be the first," she said. "Hell, you've earned the right to be the first. Watching me cry ain't easy."

The food arrived. "It started as a murder case, and it ended up rewiring my life. We found a body in the warehouse district of Houston. Me and Lindsey, that's my partner, we caught the case. I was the lead, I was the one who talked to the media. It was a doorway into this huge triangle, running illegals one side, drug runners another, and white supremacists the last. I found out they were in bed together, ended up cracking the whole thing wide, wide open. Everyone wanted a piece, the Feds, the DEA, hell I think the CIA was involved at one point. I managed to piss off not only the bad guys, but most of the law enforcers as well."

"How did that happen?"

Dayna snorted, "We're very territorial creatures, you may have noticed. So, all the bad guys knew who I was, and only me. Lindsey had taken on all of our other cases, letting me run with the triangle. It started off great, I could devote everything to it, but in the end it meant I was out in the open, all alone. None of the other agencies had kindly feelings towards me, so they weren't going out of their way to make sure I'd be safe. Hell, I would have been insulted if they had. I might as well have carried a flashing neon sign with 'shoot here' around with me." Dayna sat, looking at her lasagna. Sighing, she pushed away the plate, having only eaten three bites.

The waiter immediately came over, intense concern apparent in his frown and drawn down eyebrows. He picked up Dayna's plate, "There is something wrong with the food?" sounding like heads would roll in the kitchen.

"No, no, it's wonderful. I would like to take the rest of it home, but my stomach is a little upset right now."

"Of course. Allow me to take care of it for you." He disappeared with the plate.

"That's a little more observant than waiters usually are," Dayna said.

"Well, it's a family place, and you're here with a regular. You're lucky one of the owners isn't here. They would have pumped you for your whole life story before they let you order, and if you hadn't eaten the food...," Speedle trailed off, shaking his head. "I can't even imagine it. But please, go on with your story."

She took a deep breath, "Right. The first time they came after me was at my place. But the second time was a drive by with fully automatic weapons."

Speed briefly closed his eyes in empathy.

Dayna continued, her voice going flat and emotionless, "Three dead and twelve wounded, just because they were standing on the street when I was getting a cup of coffee. I had cut the head off the organization, but the dying body was still trying for revenge. What made it worse was the people who were left were the ones we couldn't find during the investigation. The invisible members. So they would try and get me, then fade into the shadows when it didn't work. Even when we caught some, it didn't help. The individuals were looking for payback for their group's people, so stopping the drug runners didn't help us 'make visible' anyone from the illegals or the supremacists. I didn't want to, but I eventually moved to Dallas, just to protect my people in Houston."

Speed looked at Dayna, knowing more must be coming since she wound up in Miami.

Dayna looked up and met the prompting curiosity in his eyes. She gave a quiet "Heh" at the look, then dropped her eyes and continued, "My new partner in Dallas got shot two weeks after I joined the Dallas PD. After than I was ready to go to war: As far as I was concerned everyone was fair game, from mothers and wives to children, girlfriends, neighbors, anyone in any way touched by any single person of any arm of the triangle. I was going to find and arrest every last person involved, I didn't care how many there were."

"You can't do that on your own – it's suicide," Speed said.

Dayna's lips twisted into a strained smile, "So everyone told me. It wasn't until Lindsey, Chief Blackston, and three of my best friends went to Dallas and yelled at me in person that I finally clued in. They really did call it a suicide intervention."

"Jesus, Dayna. So that's how you ended up in Miami?" Speed asked.

"Yeah. The Chief started calling around, and Miami-Dade gave the best offer. Y'all seemed to really want me. But that's why I can't go back to Texas. Lindsey tells me they're still picking up some people, and the only thing they still have in common is a deep hatred of me. It would be dangerous for me, but more for anyone around me. I could go visit my friend in the hospital, but if I get recognized ..."

Speed reached across the table and touched her lightly on her hand, "I'm really sorry," he said, then wondered at himself. He never had been big on casual touching. He pulled back his hand and asked, "Hey, are you ready to get out of here?"

"Yeah. Hey, thanks for this," said Dayna, gesturing to space between them.

"Do you feel any better?" Speed asked.

"Yeah. Actually I do," Dayna said, sounding a bit surprised.

"Then it was my pleasure." Speed smiled at her.

They settled the bill, and were walking towards the exit when the waiter came out of the kitchen. "You food, ma'am." There was the expected square box, plus a bowl on top of it.

"I'm sorry, this isn't mine," Dayna started to say, but the waiter interrupted her.

"It's chicken noodle soup, the owner's mother's personal recipe. It will help you feel better."

"Thank you," Dayna said, stunned. When they were outside she turned to Tim, "Okay, you know the BEST places."

"Yeah, it's a talent. Are you driving back, or am I?"

* * *

Tim, Calleigh and Dayna were stuck. All the leads brought them to dead ends. Dayna left, frustrated, to work on her other cases. Speed suggested to Calleigh that some time away from the case might be in order, and so she went off to catch up on some ballistics reports. Failing to follow his own advice, Tim went back to the collected evidence. He was trying to find something – anything – overlooked the first time, or some inconsequential tidbit put aside as unimportant that could hold the key. Horatio found him taking off his lab coat, ready to go back to the crime scene.

"What's happening with your case?" H asked.

"So far we've had two suspects, neither of which did the murders. We've hit dead ends following the evidence. I'm about to go back to the crime scene, see if there's anything we've overlooked."

"Tell me about the suspects," Horatio said.

"Originally it looked like a murder/suicide, so the first suspect was the husband, Kirk Grear. He and his wife were so full of ruffies, though, there's no way either one were conscious. It turns out Cathy Grear had a boyfriend, so we investigated him."

"Right, because most murders are done by someone who is close to the victim, often because they 'love' them." Horatio said. He and Speed exchanged an ironic look, forever amazed at the atrocities done by people who were supposed to care.

"Right, but he was out of the state at the time, with plenty of witnesses. On top of that, he claims to prefer married women, says the guilt enhances the sexual experience. He had no reason we can find to want them dead. In fact, what has him the most upset with the situation is now he has to find another married woman to play with."

"Hmm," Horatio looked into the distance. "What are the two things people usually feel strongly enough to kill over?" he asked.

"There are a million reasons people kill each other," Tim said.

"That's true, but the two most common are love, which you've ruled out ..." Horatio trailed off, inviting Speed to finish the thought.

"And money," Tim said.

"Follow the money," Horatio said, walking out of the lab.

* * *

"We need to get into Kirk's business life," Speed said the next day, when the three were gathered together in the trace lab.

"He had his own company. Well, his two partners and him," Dayna said.

"What does the company do?" Calleigh asked.

"Uhhmm, let's see," Dayna looked through her file. "They make videos. They tape depositions for courts and small company training videos, stuff like that. Seems to be pretty lucrative, really. It looks like Kirk, who was the founder, saw a niche and filled it."

"So did the three partners share evenly?" Speed asked.

"I don't know, but I'll find out. Why don't I take the company, the records and accountant stuff, and you two take the partners?" Dayna suggested.

"Do you think you can get a warrant? We don't have anything to link the partners into this," Calleigh said.

"I think I can, but if not I'll see what I can get into without one. I should be able to find out what the profit split is, at the very least. I'll be in touch," Dayna said, then turned and walked out of the lab, already dialing her cell phone to talk to the DA about the warrant.

Kirk Grear had two partners: a man named Jim Talbot and a woman named Stacy Walters. Calleigh and Tim went to their office to talk to them.

"Please, come upstairs," Stacy invited them into the office overlooking the equipment room, crammed with videos, monitors, techs cleaning up the equipment and checking the quality of the recorded work.

Talbot was already in there, waiting for them. He was at one of the three desks in the huge room, head bent over some paperwork he was signing. When the CSIs walked into the room he finished signing a paper, and looked up. He then stood up and eased himself around the desk, hand extended to shake hands with Speedle first, then Calleigh.

"What can we do to help with your investigation?" Stacy asked, looking grave. "Everything I have I owe to Kirk, so anything you need from me, just ask."

"Thank you, Ms. Walters. Let's start with your whereabouts between 1 and 4 am on the 12th," Calleigh said.

"I was at home in bed," Stacy said instantly.

"Can anybody verify that?" Calleigh asked.

"My husband. Oh, and probably my son too. He's going through a needy phase right now, and likes to sneak into our bedroom and crawl in with us after we're asleep. Do you need me to call them?"

"We'll take care of that later. How about you, Mr. Talbot?" Speedle asked him, noticing the intensity he had been watching Stacy with while she was answering the question.

"I was at home as well. I was alone, though," Talbot said. Speedle noticed that Talbot was very self-conscious, putting his body in exactly the same position Stacy Walters had been in while she answered Calleigh's question. He also noticed the man was sweating, although the room was slightly chilly from the air conditioner.

"We'll need both of you to give us some of your DNA, so we can exclude you from the evidence collected," Speed said suddenly.

Calleigh looked at him, then opened her kit, pulling out two cotton swabs with the cardboard transport containers. "We should get your fingerprints at the same time."

"Why? Did you find fingerprints?" Talbot asked, rubbing his hands down the front of his leg.

Calleigh just gave him a small smile, holding the swab up to his face, "Open your mouth, Mr. Talbot. This won't hurt a bit."

The criminalists left shortly after that. "We should try lifting footprints from the carpet from the scene. See if we can't get a warrant for Talbot's shoes," Speedle said.

"You like him for the murder?" Calleigh asked.

"Don't you? I thought talking to him about fingerprints was brilliant on your part," Speed said.

Calleigh smiled, "Thank you. Everything about him screamed guilt, but we don't have any evidence tying him to the scene."

"Not yet, anyway," Tim replied. "Let's go find some."

They had been back at the crime scene for a couple of hours, using electric charges to pull shoeprints onto special paper. Speedle's phone rang, and Dayna started to give her findings.

"Grear got a full fifty percent of the profit. Talbot gets twenty-five, and so does Walters."

Speed asked, "Now that he's dead, how will it be divided?"

"Since Cathy's also dead, that leaves the company equally divided between the two surviving partners. How did the interview go?" asked Dayna.

"I'm really liking the man for the murders. We're at the house, trying to find something, anything he left behind. This guy is so jittery I think just looking in his home will be enough to get a confession from him," Speedle said. Calleigh agreed from behind him, although Tim didn't think Dayna couldn't hear her through the phone microphone.

"This case has been a pain in the neck since we caught it. Let me know if you find anything. Let's get this guy in a box, with plenty of evidence to send him away. I really can't wait for this one to be over," Dayna said, then hung up with him.

"Any luck on the prints so far?" Tim asked Calleigh as he bent down to lift another quadrant. Calleigh was organizing the prints, removing hers, Tim's, Alexx's and the other medical personnel who had been in the room. She took the photos of the soles of the shoes the victims were wearing from her kit, brought specifically for this field comparison. She removed several more prints from her pile, and ended up with one print unaccounted for.

She answered Tim's question, "Maybe. I've got a mystery print here, but for all we know it's the boyfriend's."

"Let's finish the rest of the room, then we'll find out what size shoe the boyfriend and the partner have. If it's the partner then between the shoe print and the new money he's going to have we should have enough for a warrant for his house," Speed said.

"I wonder why we haven't found any trace from this guy?" Calleigh mused.

"He was very careful. But I think between the DNA swab and the fingerprints we might have him wondering if he was careful enough," Speed said.

At the end of the day they had found the unexplained footprints around both bodies. The shoes were a size seven. Michael Genetti wore a size ten. Dayna met up with them at the office of the video company, finding that Talbot had left shortly after the interview with Speedle and Duquesne. They got his address from his partner, and went there with lights and sirens going. The Mustang got there first, followed closely by the CSI Hummer. The timing was inspired, since the patrol cars arrived simultaneously, carrying the warrant needed to search the house and premises.

"How did that get here?" Calleigh asked Dayna as a uniformed officer knocked on the door to the house.

"I had given the DA a head's up before we met at the office. When I got in the car I called and told him Talbot had rabbited, he had everything ready to go but the judge's signature."

"Smooth, Campbell, very smooth," Calleigh grinned at the taller woman.

"Thanks Duquesne. I do my humble best," Dayna grinned back, while getting her sidearm from its holster in preparation for busting into the house. One of the uniformed officers brought up the ram, and broke down the door, yelling "Miami-Dade PD" as they entered.

They found Jim Talbot in the backyard, sitting on the ground, surrounded by trash. There was a black garbage bag near him, caught by the wind and moving away. He had a rain slicker next to him, and a two rubber gloves in his hand. He was staring at the gloves, looking confused. When he saw the police coming straight for him from inside his house he stood up and looked ready to run, then took a deep breath and raised his hands over his head, still holding the gloves.

Speedle and Calleigh gloved up and started grabbing everything from the ground. Calleigh chased down the black garbage bag, and put it into a fresh paper bag for transport back to the lab. Speedle got the slicker, folded it, and put it into its own large paper bag.

"I don't understand. I don't see any tears in the gloves. How did you find my fingerprints at the crime scene?" Talbot asked, almost crying as the gloves were taken from him, and the cuffs put on his wrists.

"We didn't," Speed said.

"But you said ... you said you needed my fingerprints to compare to the scene," Talbot said.

"We never said we found fingerprints at the scene. We just said we wanted yours," Speed said. "Get him out of here."

"Plastic wrap for his hair, slicker to keep the blood off his clothes, gloves to stop the fingerprints, all the ingredients for a clean getaway," Dayna said.

"Too bad his guilty conscious gave him away," Calleigh said.

"Will you be able to get enough off this stuff for a conviction?" Dayna asked.

"Oh yeah. A couple of hours with this stuff in the lab, and the prisons get one more killer," Calleigh said.

"Cool. Hey, when y'all are done in the lab, why don't we all go out? I'm in the mood to celebrate," Dayna said.

"Sounds good to me. We can all grab dinner together. Tim knows this great Italian place down the street from the lab," Calleigh said.

"I know that place. Perfect! Call me when you're done for the day, and I'll meet you there," Dayna said. She walked back to her car, to follow Talbot to booking and start the paperwork.


	5. Part Four

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Four

As Tim predicted, when the trio walked through the door of Valentino's Restaurant the husband and wife owners swooped on Dayna as the only one of the group they didn't know. While seating them they managed to find out that Dayna was from Texas, single, a homicide detective, and a blood donor.

The conversation flowed easily over dinner. The more the three talked, the more they found to talk about, which was a first for Tim. He generally ran out of things to say fairly early on in any given social situation, which earned him the reputation as a good listener early in a relationship and sullen when that relationship ended. He also was pleased when he realized his normal manner of speaking, which is fairly sarcastic, wasn't received as hostility. That was another social pitfall he had met fairly frequently.

The longer they stayed, the more laughter there was. Over coffee, they were exchanging stories of outrageous cases, realizing the humans taken as a whole were completely insane. It was when he was laughing for so long, and so loudly, that his stomach started to actually hurt that Tim realized how different this was for him. He couldn't remember a time he had felt so comfortable. Comfortable wasn't really the right word for it – he was relaxed. The only obligation he had right now in the whole messed up, violent world was to enjoy the company. He had no one to catch, no one to outthink, no one missing to track down. He didn't feel the need to impress anyone. If he were quiet for more than a few seconds, no one asked him if he was all right. He could say something he thought was amusing, and Dayna would always laugh at the right parts. _This is different_, he thought to himself, _but it's a nice kind of different._

The main difference between working with men and working with women was the hugging, he decided receiving one when they left the restaurant.

* * *

"So, how often have you worked with Dayna now?" Eric asked Speed.

"Uh, let's see, over the past two months I've worked with her ... twice with you, twice with H, once with Calleigh, and once when I was solo. So this will make number seven."

Eric grinned, "Funny how you can actually remember all the times you've worked with her, don't you think?" Eric said, pleased to have the chance to give Speedle a hard time.

"Hey, you asked a question, I just answered it," Speed said.

"I just wasn't expecting so precise and prompt an answer."

"So how many times have you worked with her?" Speed asked, piqued at the mild heckling.

"Oh, I don't know, ten maybe."

Speed looked at Eric for a few seconds, which made Eric's grin grow. "Shut up, man," was the only response Speed could come up with. Eric laughed out loud, his victory complete with the lack of usually swift and cutting response.

It was dark as they walked up to the house. Normally they worked the murders found during the day, but overtime beckoned so they volunteered for the case.

The house was large but unkempt. The front lawn was a small jungle with weeds and grass fighting for the land. The trees in the front yard each had several dead limbs hanging down, and one had white moss covering the trunk, giving it a diseased look. The house had peeling paint, and one of the shutters on the upper window was half off its hinges.

Dayna met them at the door, giving them a smile. "What's up Eric? Hiya Speed," she greeted them. "Alexx and company haven't shown up yet. The uniform checked the vic for a pulse, then left on the same path he went in on. I've been in the house, but haven't entered the room yet, waiting on you and Alexx. A neighbor heard hollering, called it in." She was dressed in her usual blue jeans and cotton blouse. Tonight the blouse was light blue and looked more like a T-shirt than anything else. She had on a lightweight jacket, covering the gun worn on her hip.

"Let's take a look," Eric said, walking past Dayna into the dark house. He started shining his flashlight around when the overheads came on. Looking back he saw Speed at the light switch.

"Just because it looks like a haunted house doesn't mean they don't pay the bills. Where's the body?" the question was directed to the detective.

"Upstairs in the game room," she said.

They found the body sprawled on the tiled floor. There was only a thin layer of blood on the stone tiles themselves, more having run into the grout lines between the tiles. In front of the television there was a brown throw rug, which looked to have absorbed the majority of the blood.

"So what do you think?" Dayna asked from her position at the door.

"I think Alexx is going to have a really easy time determining cause of death. This guy's throat has been cut from ear to ear," Eric said.

"That's not the usual method of murder. A gun gives authority to people, and it's easier to kill someone using one. With a knife you usually have someone who wants it really personal, or a professional," she said.

"Or it's a weapon of opportunity," Speed added. "We'll check and see if any knives are missing from the kitchen later."

Alexx showed up a few minutes later, impeccably dressed as usual. "Dayna girl! How goes it?" she greeted the detective, giving her a one-armed hug.

"Hey Alexx, things peachy keen on my end. But why are you out so late?"

"There must be something in the air tonight. I've spent all day on a multiple from downtown, and with Jenson on vacation they needed me to take just one more call. I couldn't turn them down. Why are you out at this time of night?"

"There's some kind of flu bug that's wiped out my department. We're done to a skeleton crew, and the bad guys are having a field day. Or maybe it just feels like that since we're all stretched to our limits," Dayna said.

"I'm sorry, hon. Be sure to take lots of fluids and vitamin C. You don't want to catch what everyone else has," Alexx said as she walked to the body.

Speed wondered again at the way women work together, draw on each other. Alexx had never given him a hug on arriving at a scene, for example. Smiling to himself he kept taking pictures around the room, calling out things to Eric about blood spatter and possible entries and exits. Eric did the same, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"The whole room is really out of the ordinary, though. A lavish game room in a house that hasn't been painted since the '90s?" He pointed at the pool table on the far side of the room, "That table alone must have cost a couple of grand."

Speed looked at the table, "At least. Probably closer to three. Are there any other rooms that are inconsistent like this one?"

Speed's train of thought was derailed as Aless turned the body over, and Dayna saw the face of the victim for the first time.

"Oh CRAP!"

"What, is this your first slit throat?" Speed asked.

"No, no, that's not it. I know that guy."

"What?" Speed and Eric asked together.

"I mean, I know of him. He's a pusher, under suspicion cutting his drugs with lethal chemicals when he gets paranoid. He's had an undercover cop working on him for months. They were going to arrest him tomorrow. Today was the last day undercover."

"Well, you better call him, his case just went out the window," Speed said.

Dayna was already pulling out her cell phone, walking away from the door.

"So did you have done unto you as you've done unto others, sugar?" Alexx asked the body, waiting for the liver temp to register. "Or are you just another victim in all of this? At least it was fast, but it probably didn't feel that way at the time. Not a nice way to go."

* * *

"Valerie, what the hell?" Dayna said.

The first surprise is that the undercover officer was a woman. The second was that she had not taken the time to change before coming to the scene.

"Jason took me out dancing to celebrate closing the case," the woman answered.

Valerie Jackson was dressed in a floor length, deep red ballgown. It was made out of some kind of flowing, lightweight material, and was completed by an intricate hairstyle and shoes with three-inch heels.

"Oh. Well, that was sweet of him." Dayna said.

"Yeah, I think he had the whole evening planned."

"Damn. I'm sorry about this Val. I know you haven't seen much of him since you went under on this case."

Both women were bent over at the waist, looking at the body. The transporters had been asked to wait until Valerie could take a look. They were waiting out in the hall, leaving the two women in the room with Eric and Tim. Valerie confirmed it was Chaz McArthur and the transporters got to work.

"That's okay, really Dayna. This is important. I tend to prefer things a little more spontaneous, anyway." Valerie said.

The women started looking around the room, careful to stay in the 'safe path' outlined by the two CSIs.

"Well, spontaneity is all well and good, but a well planned seduction is really sexy too. It shows that he's spent time thinking about you," Dayna said.

Valerie sighed, then said, "Yeah, I would have to agree."

The women were now on opposite sides of the room, processing the scene mentally while carrying on a personal conversation.

"I'm not really helping, am I? Sorry, Val, this guy's timing really sucks," Dayna said.

"Ladies, could you hurry this up any?" Tim broke in, anxious to get back to processing the room.

In the middle of Speedle's question lights played against the room from headlights through the huge windows in the room. Several cars pulled into the drive of the house.

"What's going on?" Dayna asked the room in general.

Delko walked carefully over to the window, careful not to disturb any evidence. "It looks like the press is here," he said.

"Close the curtains, Delko," Speed said.

While Delko took care of that, both of the female officers walked into the hallway. Speed could hear them through the open door.

"How did they find out about this place?" Valerie asked Dayna.

Dayna shrugged, and said, "Police scanner most likely. It must be a slow news night if they're investigating a no-name code thirty-two," she said, quoting the code for a murder. She got back to the business at hand, "You think it's someone out for revenge? Someone who cared about someone who got dead-boy's special batch?"

"I don't think so. There have been a lot of pusher disappearances lately, with no one claiming responsibility. Chaz here could be the latest," Valerie said.

"I haven't heard anything about this," Dayna said flatly. Speed could tell from her tone she had started to tense up over a potential interdepartmental problem.

"I don't know if it's true or not. On one of his rants Chaz was talking about the bodies piling up, and he might be next. I put it down to one of his paranoid delusions, but now I'm not so sure." Valerie said, trying to soothe Dayna's ruffled feathers.

"I can look into that. In the meantime, me and the boys will find out who stole your collar from you." Dayna said.

"You know, I might actually be in a position to help with that." Valerie said.

Dayna raised her right eyebrow. "You've got to stay under," she made the statement sound like a question.

"Yeah. I've got the cover already in place. I can find out faster than anyone what's going on here." Valerie said.

Speed walked out into the hallway, motioning to the transporters. "Go ahead and get him out of here before more people show up," he told them. "Stay on the path I've outlined on the tile, okay?"

The two men went into the room, and Speed motioned the two women into the next room, a bedroom, which already had the curtains closed. This kept everyone out of the way of the transporters, and kept the two body haulers from overhearing anything they shouldn't. Speed had never regained his trust of body transporters ever since one sold the body of a girl.

"Valerie, the press is out there. I don't know much about undercover work, but I'm guessing getting your picture taken in that outfit won't go a long way towards improving your street cred," Speed said, speaking to the new officer for the first time since the introductions earlier.

Dayna was gnawing on her lower lip. "Sneak out the back?" she suggested.

"I don't know. All it would take is one reporter seeing someone try to sneak away and it's game over. Plus, this dress doesn't exactly blend in. I'll just wait until they're gone," Valerie said.

"If it's a slow enough news day that a simple murder brings the media en masse, who knows how long they're going to stick around. I've got a better idea. Instead of sneaking you out, let's march you out in your cover, as a suspect in cuffs." Dayna said.

"Dayna, Tracy would never even wear a skirt, much less a gown," Valerie said, referring to her undercover persona by name.

"But she'd wear jeans, right?"

Both Speed and Valerie looked at the clothes Dayna was wearing. "You want to switch clothes?" Valerie asked.

"Can you think of a better way of getting out of here with your cover intact?" Dayna asked.

Valerie thought for a moment, then "Let's give it a try."

"Speed, make sure those transporters don't wander in here for a signature, and clue in on what we're doing. I have yet to meet one that can keep his mouth shut with a secret. We might as well keep it quiet from the uniforms wandering around, as well." Dayna said.

Speed closed the door, and leaned his back on it. "If I stand in front of a closed door, it'll look like I'm guarding something. If I'm in here, no one will get suspicious," Speed said.

Dayna grabbed the hem of her shirt and started to raise it, then looked at Speed again. "Speed, man," she said, gesturing at him to turn.

"Yeah, right," Speed said, then turned around and faced away from the disrobing women. As he guarded the door, he told himself it was a complete coincidence he could now see them in the mirror, which hung angled on the wall to the right.

While the two women were approximately the same height, they were not the same shape. Dayna had more _curves_ Speed's mind whispered to him, watching them undress and switch clothes.

Dayna's clothes on Valerie looked baggy and a bit disheveled. That could be in keeping with her character as a druggie and pusher.

Valerie's dress on Dayna, however ... the dress hugged everything on her. Particularly across the breasts. While Dayna's breasts were not large they turned out to be significantly larger than Valerie's. They ended up mounded on top of the gown, not quite indecent, but well past modest. _Soft_ was the word that Speed thought looking at her, which was ironic in a situation where the word 'hard' was rapidly becoming more appropriate. Valerie had looked beautiful in the dress; Dayna looked _sensual_. Speed closed his eyes trying to get himself under control. He really wanted his mind to stop whispering to him, it was making things harder. _And more difficult as well, _his inner voice laughed.

_Element one: Hydrogen. Element two: Helium. _Speed started reciting the elements from the periodic table, desperate for a distraction.

His eyes closed, he heard, "Hey, rub your eyes. That'll smear your mascara," from Dayna.

Element three: Lithium. Element four: Beryllium 

Valerie asked, "Do you have a brush on you?"

"It's in the car. We'll have to go for the tousled look on me. Do you want to use my ponytail holder?"

_Element five: Boron. Element six: Carbon._ Things were starting to calm down. _Deep breathes. Breathing is key._

"You need more make-up. Here, take this and do your eyes," he heard Valerie tell Dayna.

Speed felt it more than heard it when Dayna moved to the mirror. He could smell the perfume she always wore, the scent of honeysuckle. _Shit! Shit! Element six: Carbon. Already did that one. Element seven: Nitrogen. Element eight: Oxygen. That's right, idiot, don't forget to breathe while you're at it._

"Speed, we're done. You can open your eyes," Dayna said.

He opened them to see her standing next to him in the reflection, although in the room she was several feet away. Her hair was down, and Speed realized he had never seen her hair when it wasn't pulled back into a ponytail. He met her eyes in the mirror. She had a mascara wand in her right hand, but had paused to talk to him. Her lips were curved into a small smile, probably believing he had kept his eyes closed the whole time.

When she broke eye contact to continue putting on the make-up, Speed's eyes traveled down her back, following the line of her hair until it ended at the bottom of her shoulder blades. His eyes slid down the exposed skin until it came to the zipper on the back of the dress. He noticed it hadn't been pulled up quite all the way. He stepped away from the door, about to go over and _touch her skin_ pull the zipper up the rest of the way.

The knock on the door almost made him jump. "Speed, what's going on? I'm going to walk the transporter out to the wagon. Are you going to get back to the room?" Eric called through the door.

"Yeah. Are the transporter's already downstairs?" Speed called back, turning towards the door, and away from Dayna.

"Yeah," Eric said.

Speed opened the door, and then looked back and told both officers in the room, "I'll let you know when they're completely gone. Then we can all get on with our jobs."

They both nodded at him, distracted. Valerie was getting into her Tracy character. Dayna was putting on the final touches of make-up to complete the illusion she had been pulled in on her night off, a night she had spent ballroom dancing.

"What's going on?" asked Eric. He looked at Speed more closely, "Hey, you look weird."

"Let's get the body out of here. We need to get back to processing the room. Dayna's going to walk Valerie out of here. Don't look surprised," Speed said.

Eric walked in front of the gurney, opening a path to the wagon. Speed stayed on the porch, watching the press swirl around like leaves in the wind. The reporters were shouting questions, not caring who answered. The more experienced ones took note of the names of the transporters, knowing they could be tracked down later, out from under the watchful eyes of the police. With the wagon away, Eric walked back house, refusing to answer any questions. He walked past Tim and into the house. Two of the more enthusiastic reporters started up the steps, but quailed under the scowl Tim gave them. "Crime scene, see the tape? Don't you have celebrity you could be stalking?" Speed asked the group. When he was sure they were going to play by the rules, he turned and went back into the house, closing the door with a bang.

Delko had never made it up the stairs. The women were almost ready to go out, and were at the foot of the stairs. Dayna had put on her badge chain; it looked out of place resting on the dark red fabric of the gown. She was putting cuffs on Valerie's wrists, pulled behind her back.

"You sure you want to do this?" Dayna asked.

Valerie looked at Dayna for a second, then asked her, "If it were you, would you do it?"

"Yes," Dayna said immediately. She wrapped her left hand around Valerie's upper right arm, and told the uniformed officer by the door to go out and start up his unit.

"Ready to go? We'll go in front and clear the way for you," Delko said.

"Let's go," Valerie said.

Delko opened the door; he and Speedle went out first, to the explosive flashing of cameras. When Dayna and Valerie stepped out, the number of flashes at least doubled. The questions, which had been shouted, almost turned into screams at the sight of a woman being led out in cuffs. The men started actually shoving the reporters out of the way.

Valerie, in her persona of Tracy, looked around confused at the media, tears streaming down her face. She had put the hair holder at the base of her neck, so lots of her hair was in her face.

A reporter managed to get in front of her, shouting the question, "Why did you do it?"

Valerie mumbled in the microphone, "I didn't do anything, man. I showed up and he was already dead."

Campbell shoved the reporter back into the mass, and dragged "Tracy" the rest of the way to the police vehicle. Eric had the back door opened for them, and Campbell put in Tracy, hand on the top of her head. Going to her own vehicle was slightly easier, since most of the reporters were now sprinting to their own vehicles, either to report to their editors, or go to the police station to be there for the booking.

Speedle walked Campbell to her vehicle, where they were intercepted by two of the remaining reporters.

"Nice dress, Detective," one said, taking pictures as Campbell got into her car.

"Thank you. Now get out of my way," she said, then closed her door. She started her car and left.

Speed smiled at the receding car, then turned and saw the reporters were still there. "So what's going on? What's with the dress?" the taller two asked.

"Formal investigation," Speedle said, then walked back to the house.

Speed finally got back to the scene of the crime. Eric had returned to looking for trace, and Speed resumed taking the photos and making the sketches.

"So, I know you were in there when I talked to you through the door," Eric said to Speed.

"Yeah. So?" Speed responded.

"So you were in there when they figured out how to keep Valerie undercover," Eric said.

"Yeah," Speed continued to take his photos.

"So, were you in there when they changed clothes?" Eric asked.

"Yeah. So what, man?"

"Nothin'. It's just now I know why you looked weird when you came out of the room," Eric said.


	6. Part Five

A Little Bit of Texas

Part Five

Speed and Eric gave their findings jointly to the commander of the undercover operations. Ray Hawks was a well-dressed, educated, cultured African-American man. He listened attentively to the two CSIs, not saying a word the entire time. When both had reported all they knew the man gathered the files he had been given, stood up, shook hands with both, and walked out the door. His second in command was an Asian-American woman who stayed behind to speak to the two men.

"You did such a good job, we're going to be sure to tell your lieutenant. We do feel this case is best worked by our team, however, so you can get back to your other cases," she said, shaking hands with both of them. She made lots of eye contact with the two men, radiating sincere admiration. She then followed her boss out the door.

"Most polite way of being asked to shove off I've ever gotten," Dayna later told them of her own, almost identical, experience with the undercover brass.

"You got pushed off the case too?" Eric asked Dayna in the CSI break room.

"Oh yeah," she said. "Except I got a 'thank you for calling in our officer to the case' thrown in as well.'

Dayna was waiting for Calleigh and Horatio, ready to give them findings on a homicide she was working with them.

When Calleigh and Alexx came through the door, though, the conversation veered sharply from the professional to the personal.

"So, tonight's the big night, huh?" Calleigh said as came through the door.

"It's just a date, Cal. The most I can hope for out of tonight is a going to a good exhibit." Dayna said.

"Yeah, whatever. What are you going to wear?" Alexx said.

"What I've got on," Dayna said, and both of the other women groaned.

Speed smiled as he took a swig of the water. If she was planning on going in a t-shirt and jeans the guy wasn't going to be getting anywhere. Then he wondered to himself why that made him smile. _Forget it, not going there._

Calleigh turned to Alexx, "What are you doing after work today?"

"I've got a post that's going to take the rest of today, then a school play. My son is playing a flower tonight."

"Well, don't worry. I'm going to take Dayna on an emergency shopping trip. By the time I'm done this guy won't know what hit him," Calleigh said.

Dayna stepped in firmly, "Calleigh, I met this guy in a coffee shop. My gut reaction is that the only thing I have in common with him is that we're both carbon based, oxygen breathing life forms." Eric and Alexx laughed at the description.

"Right, sure. So why did you say you'd go out with him?" Calleigh asked.

Dayna smiled, then said, "I love photography and he asked me to the gallery opening of a new photographer. Well, plus, he's the first man in Miami to realize I'm a woman. That does get him extra points. Hey, are you okay?" Dayna asked Speed. He had started chocking on his water at the last thing she said.

"Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe," he said. He noticed Calleigh was looking at him longer than was necessary. "I'm fine," he told her.

"Yeah," she said, still looking at him. After a few more seconds she smiled, and turned back to Dayna. "So, you don't care about impressing this guy, but who knows who your going to meet there."

"Calleigh..." Dayna said, warningly. Calleigh just grinned at her. "Okay, we can go shopping," she said.

"Great, I'll drive. Meet me here after you get off, and don't let any case get in your way. Speaking of cases, didn't you have something for me?"

"Yeah, let's go track down H. I've got some news for the two of you," Dayna said as she and Calleigh started out the door.

"Hey Dayna!" Alexx called after them. They turned back and Alexx said, "Why don't we get together here for lunch tomorrow, and you can tell us all about it? I'll bring the food."

Dayna gave a one shouldered shrug, "Sure, why not? I'll meet you here tomorrow at noon."

* * *

A man had been found murdered, his body dumped onto the highway heading north out of Miami. Speed was the CSI assigned to the case, with Detective Tripp. The body was a mess, but it looked like he had been stabbed to death. Alexx was going over the body when Speed walked into her autopsy theater.

"Hey Timmy," Alexx greeted him.

"Hi, Alexx. Okay, what have we got?" Speed asked.

"A young man, dead too soon. He's no more than eighteen years old, if that. But looking at his liver, I would guess he's been an alcoholic for years." Alexx stroked the dead man's hair, "You had a hard life, honey, didn't you?"

"How did he die?"

"Bled out. He's got four stab wounds in his chest, plus a couple of defensive cuts on his right arm. It's not the first time he's been on the wrong side of a knife either. I've found dozens of cuts, some serious, all under a month old."

"None older than that?" Speed asked.

"Not that I could see."

"Anything else you can tell me about him?"

"I bagged his clothes, there on that table behind you. Based on the condition of them, not to mention the smell, he may have been homeless."

"Could be he's just been on the street for a month, that would explain why you couldn't find any cuts older. Living on the streets is brutal, I'm not surprised he's gotten cut before," Speed said.

"I don't know. I want to run a couple more tests on the body, though, because something's not right here," Alexx said.

"When you figure out what that something is, let me know. So far, I've got nothing," Speed said.

"Will do. Hang on a sec, Timmy, I bet these are the blood results," Alexx said, spotting Claire come in with a folder in her hand.

"Blood work on John Doe. Blood alcohol level of .02, no traces of any other drugs in his system, including some he needed," Claire said.

".02? That's nothing. There's more alcohol than that in mouthwash," Speed said.

"There was more alcohol than that just in his stomach. What do you mean, drugs he needed?" Alexx asked the tech.

"We found a bacterial infection, a viral infection, severe anemia, a cocktail of other medical problems. I honestly don't know how much longer he would have lived without getting some medical help," Claire said.

Speed said, "So he had alcohol in his stomach, but hardly any had been metabolized. Someone gave him a drink while he was dying?"

Alexx cocked a hip, and looked at Speed, "Can you think of a better time to give an alcoholic a drink?"

"Right. I'll get started on the clothes after lunch. Do you think the body can tell us anything else?" Speed asked Alexx as Claire walked out of the door.

"I'll see what else he can tell us, but it will have to be later. I've got three more posts that have come in since then, and they need me too. I'll work on them after lunch, and get back to John after that."

"Okay, let me know if you find anything," Speed said, starting to walk out.

"Are you going up to the break room for your lunch?" Alexx asked him before he left.

"Yeah, why?"

"Would you tell Dayna I'll be done here soon, and I'll be right up?" Alexx asked.

* * *

Speed walked into the break room and saw Dayna, her elbow on the table, her right hand propping up her head.

"Hey, Campbell. How did your date go?" Speed asked her.

"Oh, you're funny Speedle. Spare me the jokes, the entire homicide department has beat you to them." Dayna said.

"What are you talking about? I was just trying to make conversation," Speed said.

"Ah, sorry about that. So, you don't read The Herald, huh?" Dayna said.

"No, I watch channel 8. Wait a minute, are you saying that your date made the news?"

Dayna nodded, with her head still resting on her hand, "Oh yes. Color photos, a byline, and complete humiliation for yours truly."

Horatio and Calleigh came in. Horatio stopped by the table and looked at Dayna, his head tilted to the side, "You never told him you were a cop, huh?"

"Nope, never came up. At least, not until I arrested him," Dayna said, smiling a little.

Calleigh asked, "What are you talking about? Who did you arrest?"

"That's what happens when you get the news from the internet, you lose the local flavor," Horatio told her.

Alexx came in, and immediately went over to Dayna, giving her a hug, "Oh honey, I am so sorry."

"Yeah, well, these things happen, right?" Dayna said. Alexx looked at her for a second, and then both of them started laughing out loud.

"Only to you, sugar, only to you," Alexx said when she got her breath back. Dayna got herself under control a few seconds later.

"Ah well, it's so completely ridiculous I have to laugh. You know what makes it even better? The date was even worse than the paper made it seem," Dayna said.

"What happened? Spill." Calleigh asked, as Alexx got the lunches from the refrigerator.

Alexx put the food down in front of Calleigh, Dayna, and her own spot at the table. Speed pulled his sandwich from the fridge and settled on the couch, ready to hear the story. Horatio pulled up a chair, and sat on it backwards, his arms crossed and resting on the top of the back of the chair. Calleigh and Alexx looked at Dayna expectantly.

Dayna looked around the room, realizing she had a larger audience than she had expected. She looked at four criminalists in turn and visibly shrugged, "You want the whole thing?" The room nodded back.

"So I met the guy at the gallery," she started.

"Were you wearing the dress we picked out?" Calleigh interrupted.

"The one you picked out. Yes, for all the good it did me," Dayna said, tartly. "Okay, so I get there, meet Jones, hi, hi whatever. Then he tells me he has to go talk to this guy across the room. So, I'm there looking at the photos, and this guy comes up to me and asks me what I think about them. I told him I thought the photographer was talented, but that the photos were 'crowd pleasers' and he seemed to be afraid to try anything daring in case it didn't work out," Dayna closed her eyes, shuttering slightly at the memory. "Of course, when the photographer is introduced it's the same guy. I still hadn't seen my date, so I went looking for him, thinking maybe I could get a little sympathy for sticking my foot in my mouth," she said.

"Sure. I guess it didn't work out that way, though. What happened?" Calleigh asked.

"I went to this room in the back, I opened the door, saw Jones, and walked in. Walked into a coke deal at the same time." Dayna paused, then laughed a little, "I was furious. The looks on their faces were priceless, but I was so mad I couldn't appreciate it until now. They looked like two kids caught shoplifting, or something. That's when I pulled out my gun and badge from my bag."

"Dayna, oh God," Alexx said.

"Well, it's not like I could ignore it. Of course, there were two of them and I only had one pair of cuffs. I cuffed them through an opening in this hideous sculpture that was in that room." Dayna started laughing again, this time harder, trying to tell her story and still be understood, "The whole time Jones was saying 'You're a cop? You're a cop! I can't believe you're a cop.' He kept saying it over and over again."

Dayna's laughter wound down, "Ah. I called for backup on my cell. I asked them to come in softly, but no – they busted in like I'd just cornered Al Capone. So two uniforms go running into the back room while the photographer is winding up his speech, and I come stalking out, followed by two men being escorted out in cuffs. The Herald arts reporter was there, along with his photographer. Everyone was staring at us, the exhibit completely forgotten, the artist stunned silent in the middle of his own opening. It was completely, completely, hideously awful."

Calleigh and Alexx looked at her, sandwiches forgotten in their hands. Horatio shook his head with a small smile, got up and looked at her. "Dayna?" he asked

"Yeah?"

"I have got to introduce you to Bethany. Dinner on Sunday?" he asked.

* * *

It was the end of the same day when Speedle went to the homicide offices. Alexx had gotten back to him with more findings on the body. He found Tripp, and told him what he and Alexx had found.

"Okay, Alexx looked at him every way she could think of and found some strange things. It looks like this kid had never been well cared for. Probably raised on the streets, malnourished, bad bones, bad teeth, bad health, bad everything. This kid was a hardcore alcoholic since around fifteen years old, is Alexx's best guess. But, it looks like fairly recently this guy's life had improved. His stomach contents included beef, vegetables and milk. She did find alcohol in his system, but only a tiny amount. She found more alcohol in his stomach, which makes me think someone gave him a drink while he was dying, maybe to take the pain away, maybe because that's what an alcoholic would want as the last thing he had. He was stabbed to death, and Alexx found older cuts, but none of them too much older. The earliest one was only about a month old. What if the cuts and the better food both started at around the same time?"

"What would that mean?" Tripp asked.

"I don't know yet. I've looked at his clothes. Even if his eating habit improved, his wardrobe didn't. The clothes are so old that the dirt may be the only thing that's stopping them from disintegrating at the slightest touch."

"Were you able to get anything off of them?" Tripp asked.

"I got some blood that does not belong to our John Doe, but without someone to compare it to, we're dead in the water."

"I'll take his picture around to some of the shelters, see if we can't scare up a name. Truthfully, though, I don't think we're going to be solving this one Speedle. Trying to find out who this guy was, much less who killed him, is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack."

"I know, but I hate to give up, just because he didn't have an address," Speed said, frustrated.

"We're not," Tripp replied. "I'll let you know if I find anything."

Speed had made it to the elevators in the lobby, ready to head home for the day. He saw Dayna coming into the lobby from the hall leading to the interrogation rooms. He watched as she picked up some messages from the receptionist and started walking in the direction of her desk. He was just about to speak when another man beat him to it. A blonde man stood up from one of the benches lining the walls of the lobby. He had a bouquet of bright, multi-colored flowers in his hand. He walked up to Campbell, and stopped her from continuing on. Speed could see them both in perfect profile.

"Detective Campbell?" the man said to Dayna.

"Oh," Dayna said, "Hi." She didn't look the man in the eye, darting her eyes around the room, to his chest, the bouquet, the floor, anywhere but directly at the man's face.

"These are for you. I wanted to come and thank you,"

Dayna's eyes met the strangers, wide with surprise, "You wanted to thank me? For what? Insulting your work, or ruining your opening?" she asked the photographer.

Speed's instincts took over, and he pulled back to the wall and the shadows, noting everything about the man he could. Tim noticed they were the same height, but the photographer wasn't as muscular. He was wearing a black sports coat, a dark blue collared shirt, and a pair of black jeans. His hair was short and tousled, but clean. He also looked very nervous. Tim tensed up, but doubted anyone who came bearing flowers would be holding a grudge.

"For both. Well, no. Okay, here's the deal, you didn't do either of those things. Well, you did kind of insult my work, but that's okay. This isn't coming out the way it's in my head. Can I start again?" the man said.

Dayna lips started to curl up into a closed lipped smile. "All right," she said.

"I'm Ben Connors. We met at my opening last night," the man said.

"Yeah, I vividly remember meeting you last night," Dayna said, dropping her eyes again. "Listen, I really want to apologize for"

Connors reached out his free, left hand and tilted Campbell's face up until eye contact was regained. Every muscle in Speedle's body stiffened, as he watched this man touch Dayna.

"Don't apologize, okay? I wanted to thank you," Connors's left hand dropped from her face, and his right hand put the flowers forward. Dayna hesitated, then took them. "Do you know, you're the first person who's been honest with me about my work? I knew there was something wrong with it, but I couldn't see it, and no one would tell me. I only had pictures that made people feel good. I don't have any that make them feel great, or laugh, or cry, or feel anything ... anything important." He smiled at her and Dayna smiled back.

"And as far as my opening goes, while it didn't go exactly as planned, do you know how much publicity you brought me? I was going to be buried on the third or fourth page of the arts section. No one would have read about it. Since you arrested those guys I got on the front page of the arts section, with a teaser on the front page. The real, actual front page. The gallery called me about an hour ago: They've already sold half of my work. This is fantastic, and it's all thanks to you." Connors took a deep breath, and said in a rush, "Would you like to have dinner with me? And I've got some other work, and I think they're better. I've never shown them to anyone, and I think I'd like you to see them. Please?"

Speed held his breath until Dayna answered, and then he felt like someone had punched him.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that. I'm going to find something to put these in, leave them on my desk. I'll be right back," she said, then walked off into the break room.

Speed realized he jaw was hurting, and consciously unclenched his teeth. _Now the hands_, he told himself. Slowly his hands relaxed from the fists they had turned into watching the two together. He felt detached from his body as he left the lobby quietly, so this Ben guy didn't see him.

He couldn't remember getting on his bike, or leaving, but the next thing he knew he was home. He realized he didn't want to go in. What he really wanted was to hit something. _Someone._ _You're acting like this guy is a doing something wrong, something bad. He's not a rival. You work with Dayna, nothing more._ Well, talking to himself wasn't helping. He didn't get off the bike, electing to go to the gym instead. _Work out all the confusion you are obviously feeling about this woman._ He didn't actually feel confused, he realized later, after hitting a heavy bag for almost an hour. _Okay, so Ben Connors is a rival._ _Now all I have to do is let Dayna know that._

Later, after he was at home, he tried to think of the best way to approach Dayna the next day. He was fairly confident; he knew about Dayna's history in Texas, they worked together, shared interests, have had dinner and laughs together. What does this new guy have? _What he has is tonight. Oh hell._

Speed picked up the phone to call Dayna, to tell her not to do anything ... anything permanent. He put the phone down, not wanting to dip his toe into stalker waters.

He walked to his bookshelf and picked up a book. He held it in his hand, but didn't see the title. Instead he wondered what the couple was doing. _You know damn well what they're doing. The guy asked her to look at his photos, that's the modern equivalent of asking her up to look at his sketches. And she agreed. And she just had a horrible date, so she's vulnerable right now. And she was talking about how no one in Miami looked at her as a woman, and this prick brought her flowers. Shit_

Tim grabbed his phone again, and started dialing. He would get Calleigh to call Dayna, she would do it, she owed him. He stopped and hung up before the call went through. _It's one night and a first date. Stop thinking about it._ _Don't think about what they could be doing right now. Dayna's not the kind to sleep around. Which means, of course, if she does sleep with him, you are out of the game, out of the running, and out of luck. Don't think about them having a fabulous dinner together. Don't think of them dancing, his hand on her back, holding her close. Don't think about her smiling at him. _

Speed watched as the couple came through the door, hand in hand, Connors leading in Dayna. The photographer took off his sports coat, threw his keys onto the table, then turned and caught Dayna's face in both hands, pulling her up to him. The kiss was deep and long, and when it stopped both paused for breath. Speed noticed Dayna was a little unsteady on her feet.

_Stop imagining it! This can not be healthy._ Speed picked up the book again, opened it to a random page, and desperately started to read. He stopped on the fifth word of the sentence, watching Ben the Bastard unzip the back of Dayna's dress, as she looked back over her shoulder. She stepped out of the dress – now wearing nothing but a lacy pair of black bra and panties -- and into his arms, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him to her. As they kissed, Dayna's hands dropped to the shirt the photographer was wearing, pulling it out of his jeans and unbuttoning it blind. They unclenched long enough to get his pants off, so both stood there wearing very, very little. Connor's appreciation of the view was obvious, to Dayna's apparent delight. She smiled and took his hand, placing it on her breast, over the brassiere. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip as he slipped his hand under the lace, to touch her, to rub her. "My God," her voice came out husky.

Speed threw the book against the nearest wall. _She wasn't even wearing a dress when they left. Keep it together. I need a distraction._ He got a beer from the fridge, and sat down in front of the TV. He turned it on and switched channels until he found a football game. He realized his left leg was bouncing off the ball of his foot, and consciously tried to calm down. Gradually the leg stopped, and he turned his eyes back to the game. _Thank God for ESPN._

The couple had gotten to the bed, in a tangle of hands and tongues, the final clothes gone. Ben pulled away far enough to get his hands around Dayna's waist, and pushed her higher on the bed. He worked his way up her body with his mouth, teeth nipping her skin every few inches until her reached her neck. He kissed her neck, then moved to her shoulder where he bit down hard enough to make Dayna hiss between her teeth. Ownership marks.

"God damn son of a bitch," Speed shouted at the TV. _Damn it. _He turned the TV off, and started pacing back and forth across the room. It only took four steps to cross the room, his stride being lengthened by anger. Four steps, turn. Four steps, turn. _Damn it. How am I supposed to get through tonight?_

He went running, trying to use physical exhaustion to siphon off his paranoia. It worked for a little while; the first time his mind wandered to the couple he almost got creamed by a truck. His survival instinct kicked in and shut down all higher brain functions. He didn't think about anything but the feel of the running. His body started complaining, and Speed was amazed at how far from his home he had come. The pain of running back took care of the rest of the time.

He crawled into the shower, fatigue eliminating any thoughts of Dayna with another man. He crawled into bed, finally. Only four hours until his alarm went off. Only a few hours until he could let her know how he felt. He closed his eyes.

Dayna was on top of Connors, her back bowed down to kiss him as he sat up to meet her. His hands on her hips keep them moving in rhythm, his fingers making indentions into her flesh as he grasped her harder. He lay back down, as Dayna drew back, straightening up. They managed to climax together, Dayna's face turning red, her body shaking. Dayna was breathing heavily as she rolled off, to lie down next to him. "Ben, I think I love you."

Speed groaned and opened his eyes. _Are you kidding me? Yeah, right. My mind is out to kill me._ He turned his head and looked at the time. Only three hours and fifty minutes until his alarm. He sat up and thought about how to get through the longest night of his life.


	7. Part Six

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Six

When Tim walked into the office the next day, people rushed to get out of his way. His face was grey, his eyes bloodshot, and his temper palpable. He snarled his way to his lab, put on his lab jacket, and got to work on the clothes of the homeless victim. He had the mass spectrometer running on five different substances, just from the shirt, when Calleigh walked into his domain.

"What do you want?" Speed asked, with foul grace.

"Tim Speedle, what the hell bit you this morning?" Calleigh asked, sitting on one of the stools.

"Nothing. I got no sleep last night, and I'm a little on edge," Speed said.

"A little? Remind me to call in sick any day your feeling a lot on edge. Jade told me when she told you good morning you gave her such a nasty look she almost felt like crying," Calleigh said.

"If all it takes is a look to make Jade cry, she needs to walk around wrapped in a protective layer of cotton, 'cause she's not ready to be in the real world," Speed said.

"And I know I haven't done anything to you, and you haven't said one single civil thing to me yet," Calleigh pointed out.

"Did you come in here for a reason? Or is being annoying the only thing on your mind right now?"

"No, not the only thing on my mind, but it's so rare to see something effect you this way ... I have to admit, I am enjoying getting under your skin. Now say something nice to me, or I won't tell you the good news," Calleigh said. She raised both eyebrows, opened her eyes wide and grinned at Speed.

"What good news?" Speed asked.

"Say something nice first, I mean it," Calleigh said.

Speed just stared at her, then turned away. He started to work on the pants. Calleigh stayed where she was, watching him work, and smiling.

"All right. Damn, anything to get you out of here. Okay, I think you are a very nice person, who cares about the job a lot more than I do. Happy?" Speed said.

"Thank you, Tim. That was very nice, and I know it hurt you to say. Now the good news," Calleigh said. She hopped of the stool, and walked over to Speed, standing next to him as he worked on the pants on the table, then said, "Nothing happened last night."

He stopped examining the band on the pants. He put the pants back on the light table, carefully. He then slowly turned to his left, so he was face to face with the blonde. "I don't know what you mean. Nothing happened last night?" Speed worked hard to keep his voice level, even, and above all, nonchalant.

Calleigh laughed out loud, right to his face, then said, "Dayna? On her spur of the moment date with the photographer guy? Everything they did last night was strictly G rated."

Speed couldn't help it, he let out a relieved breath, and leaned against the table. The barbed wires wrapped around his chest since the night before suddenly disappeared.

Calleigh went back to the stool she had been sitting on. "I thought that might be the reason you came stomping into work today," she said.

"How do you know?"

"About the date? Or about how you feel?"

"The date," Speed said.

Calleigh shook her head, "You mean you didn't figure that out? Why don't men understand the way women react? It's not really that difficult."

"The Y chromosome guarantees a natural immunity to understanding women. Are you going to tell me, or not?"

"Down boy," Calleigh said, "or I won't tell you anything. I know about the date because Dayna called me from her desk. Apparently the guy brought her some flowers."

Speed broke in, "Yeah, I know. I was there. Skip ahead," he said.

"Wait a minute, what do you mean you were there?"

"They didn't see me, but I was in the lobby," he said.

"Oh." Calleigh though a moment, then said, "That's kind of creepy, Speedle. You stayed and watched Dayna get asked out on a date?"

Speed felt the need to explain himself, which in itself was evidence of how tired he was. "At first I didn't know what was going to happen, but I wanted to make sure the guy wasn't upset about the opening. After that, what was I supposed to do?"

"Anyway, when she put the flowers on her desk she called me up, told me what was going on. When she got home she called me again, gave me all the details."

"So, nothing happened?" Speed had to ask.

Calleigh smiled, "Nope, Ben was a perfect gentleman. Really charming too, good looks, the whole package. Your really tired, so let me translate this for you: Dayna really likes this guy, so if you don't want to see her with him long term, then you better move fast."

Yeah, I know," Speed said. Calleigh started to leave the lab. "Hey, Cal? How did you know how I felt? I didn't even realize until last night."

"I'm a woman, Tim. We notice the little things, like the way you would look only at her when you were in the same room. The way you always know exactly where she is: whether she's here, homicide division, on a case, or off duty. Eric says that you knew exactly how many times you've worked with her."

"You noticed all that?"

"Actually, Alexx did." Calleigh had the honesty to look shamefaced, "but she told me what to look for, and then I could see it. I probably would have noticed it on my own. You know, sooner or later. By the way, she says that Dayna feels the same way about you, but she still hasn't realized it."

"Alexx knows?" Speed asked, horrified.

"Yeah. Oh, Horatio too."

"Eric?" Speed asked.

"Just as clueless as you," Calleigh said.

"But she likes me too?" as the ideas began to form.

* * *

He called Dayna a few hours later, after he had a plan in mind.

"Hey Dayna. Listen, I only have a minute, but I need to ask you something. You're off on Tuesday, right? The day after tomorrow?"

"Hi, Tim. Yeah, I'm off. Why?"

"Have any plans for tomorrow night?"

"Nah, what's up? You need me on a case?"

"Just don't make any plans, okay."

"Speedle, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Uh-uh. It's a surprise. Gotta go. See you tomorrow."

Tim had spent the day working on two levels. On one level he collected samples from the clothes of the victim, ran them, and compared the results. While the machines were running, though, he was putting his ideas into motion. He made phone calls and called in favors all over town.

His mind was naturally detail oriented, and that talent had been honed by working crime scenes for years. He remembered everything Dayna had ever said about what she liked on a date, he talked to Calleigh about Danya's discussions with her, he thought of every "what women want from men" article he had ever seen by mistake.

In the end, he would leave no doubt in the mind of one Detective Dayna Campbell how he felt. In the end, he prayed she felt the same.

* * *

_Back to business. _The results came in, and Speed called Tripp.

"I think he was in the warehouse district," Speed said.

"The warehouses? Why, what's there he could possibly be interested in?" Tripp replied.

"Don't know yet. Let's find out."

It was after hours of searching that they discovered ... absolutely nothing. They showed the photo to person after person, Speed looked everywhere for blood, they talked to every man they could find. There were no homeless people around to speak of, and none of the workers knew anything.

"The trouble with searching the warehouse district is that it's nothing but warehouses," Tripp said.

"Thank you for that stunning observation, Tripp. Did you mug someone for that detective's badge, or what?" Speed said.

"Back it off, Speedle, I'm not in the mood," Tripp said. "What I mean is, there's no way we are going to be able to cover all of these buildings alone."

Speed looked at Tripp for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, sorry, man, I'm a little out of it today. Didn't get much sleep. We could call the academy, get the cadets to help us."

"For a dead homeless guy? Forget it. I think we have to face it; until something else shows up, we're at a dead end."

Speed looked around at the buildings surrounding them, with hundreds, thousands of places a man could be stabbed to death. The clothing had oils and metal shavings in it, fuel particular to machines used here, but didn't reveal any way to narrow the crime scene down to a single building, or even a single group of buildings.

A sigh made of exhaustion and frustration came from both men. Speed reluctantly gave in. "Let's get out of here."

They climbed into Tripp's vehicle, and started leaving. It was only a few seconds after the car started moving that Tripp stopped again. Speed looked at Tripp, who was staring down an alley.

"What's going on? Do you see something?" Speed asked.

"Yeah. I think that's Adamson's car down there," Tripp said, referring to another Miami-Dade detective.

"Adamson? The detective Campbell was fighting with? What's he doing here?" Speed asked, remembering the first time he had seen Dayna.

"I don't know," Tripp said, stopping the car, and putting it in park. He shut down the engine and pulled out the key. "Let's find out."

The two men got out and went over to the car. Adamson was nowhere to be seen, the hood cold to the touch.

Speed asked, "Which building do you think he's in?"

Tripp said, "It could be any one of these five," motioning to the pattern of warehouses. The car was parked at the center of a star.

"Want to go look for him?"

Tripp though for a moment, then said, "Naw, we don't know what he's up to, and don't want to bust into the middle of something important. I'll ask him the next time I see him. Let's go."

* * *

Speed came in the next morning carrying a cup of coffee. He immediately went to Jade's lab.

"I was a total jerk yesterday, and I'm really sorry about that. I hadn't gotten any sleep the night before and I took it out on you. I brought you this; would you take it as a peace offering?" he said.

He handed the coffee over. Jade reached out her hand, then hesitated, looking at Speed's face. Then she smiled and took the cardboard cup.

H left the room, went directly to the Trace lab, and pulled on his lab coat.

"You're certainly chipper this morning," Calleigh said from the stool where she had been waiting for him. "So, what's the latest?"

"What am I, your new soap opera?"

"No, not at all. Well, yeah, a little. And no one calls them soap operas; they're just called 'soaps.' So what's going on? Do you need me to help you with anything?"

Speed came to the fast realization that the sooner he gave Calleigh the gossip she was craving, the sooner the blonde would go away.

"Everything is set," he said. "I've planned everything down to the last detail. The only thing that can go wrong at this point is if ..."

"What?" Calleigh asked.

"If she doesn't actually like me." Speed was unused to feeling insecure, and the fear of this final option settled in his eyes, making them feel gritty and dry.

Calleigh hesitated. She had never seen Speed anything less than fully confident when it came to women. "I don't know what to tell you. I think she does."

"But you two have never actually talked about me, right?"

"No, we haven't. But look, with everything that you've got planned, you would sweep any woman off her feet. I know you and I know her – it's going to be wonderful." She looked at him a second, and then asked, "So what did you do last night, anyway? Dayna had dinner with Horatio and Bethany, and you don't look like you were up all night this time."

"Mostly I cleaned my place. You know, no one ever told me about cleaning baseboards when I was growing up. I think I probably gained a few square feet in my apartment after I got everything done," he said.

"Oh my God, Tim. Are you kidding? You actually let your apartment get that bad? But you keep your lab so neatly."

"Calleigh, you can leave now."

"Alright, alright, I'm going." She walked a couple of steps away, then whirled back around to face Speedle, "I'm really excited about tonight. Good luck, Tim."

_Oh yeah, I'm really excited too. I'm so excited I feel sick._

Two hours later, Tripp's phone call was a welcome respite from his increasing nervousness.

"There's something definitely going on with Adamson. When I asked him about his car, he tried to deny it. When that didn't work he handed me some cock and bull story about being on a surveillance gig," the detective reported.

"What does his lieutenant say?" Speed asked, grasping at straws.

"That's a funny thing. His L.T. backed him up one hundred percent, and invited me to ask IAD about it too."

"So he really was on surveillance?"

"Speedle, I'd bet my daughter's life he's lying through his teeth. But he's protected from someone high up. So high up he doesn't have to worry about us. And it's not the first time he's been protected, either. Years ago he was caught tampering with evidence: that should have gotten him arrested. Instead he got his wrist slapped, and was banned from working with CSI. That part didn't even come from higher up, but from the lieutenant in charge of the CSI unit at the time. The guy Megan took over from."

"Now what, Tripp?"

"Now we're at a dead end, unless you've got any bright ideas."

Speedle sighed out his frustration. "Damn. Okay," he said. He hung up with the detective and spent the rest of the day bagging up the victim's clothes for transport to the cold case lock-up. He worked on other people's cases for the rest of the day, then headed home a little early.

* * *

He shaved, changed into a dark grey shirt and dark blue jeans. He got on his bike drove to the homicide building, and waited on his bike for Dayna to come out.

She was wearing a red blouse that buttoned down the front, black jeans, and boots. Her hair was pulled into its usual ponytail. When she saw Speed he saw her eyes widen briefly, then she walked over.

"Have you ever ridden on a bike?" he asked her.

"No." She grinned at him, then asked, "What's going on?"

"Did you want to leave your purse in your car? I guarantee you won't need it."

Dayna hesitated, asked, "Are we going out?"

"That doesn't even begin to describe it."

Dayna put her purse in the trunk of her car, and walked back to Speed.

Speedle handed her a helmet, "You get on behind me and put your arms here." He took her arms and wrapped them around his waist. She kept them around him as she swung her leg over and settled in. He allowed himself a smile she couldn't see at the feel of it.

He started the bike and started to move, feeling Dayna's arms instinctively tighten. As he drove he noticed she leaned into the turns. _She really is the right woman._ He could remember how his last girlfriend would lean the wrong way and put them both in danger. He had timed it right, they reached the beach as the sun was setting.

They walked out onto the sand, not touching. They stopped at the water, and Speed touched Dayna's shoulder, gently turned her toward him.

"Okay, here's the thing," he said. Without any further warning he put his hands on her arms, pulled her towards him and kissed her. At first he was tentative, giving her the opportunity to pull away. When she didn't he deepened the kiss and exulted in his mind when she began to kiss him back. He finally, reluctantly, broke away and pulled back, but kept his hands on her arms.

"The thing is I can't stop thinking about you. And when you went out with that photographer guy it drove me crazy. I mean it, I think I went crazy, a little. Now that I know how I feel, I had to let you know, too. I want a chance with you. If you give me tonight, I think I can convince you we should be together. If you say no now, I'll take you back to your car, and we'll never talk about this again. Will you give me this chance?"

Dayna didn't say anything for a second that felt like forever. When she did speak, she looked directly into Tim's eyes, and asked, "Will there be more kissing?"

He smiled at her, and drew her close again, eager to answer the question with actions, rather than words.

* * *

Parrot Island was only a fifteen-minute drive from the beach. It was a place where Miami families take their kids, where tourists went the day after to detox from Miami nightlife, and where Tim took Dayna for dinner. The zoo was locked up for the night, but a large white man in a three-piece suit was waiting for them at the entrance.

"Ms. Campbell, Mr. Speedle," he said bowing slightly to each as he said their names, "please follow me." The stranger turned, unlocked the front door, and walked them through the entrance. He led them past the vacant gift shop, ticket booths and tour stops, until they came to the edge of the park proper.

He pointed down a path, gently lit with lamps at discreet intervals. "Please take the path to the left, it will take you through the areas where the nocturnal creatures play. Please take your time. At the end of the path is our restaurant. Enjoy your stay here, for this evening the entire park is yours."

The man shook hands with Tim, kissed Dayna's hand, turned and walked off.

"Tim, how the hell ... ?"

Speed smiled at her, "And spoil the air of mystery? Never. Are you ready?" Speed gestured down the path.

Dayna's smile was enormous. She took Tim's hand in her right, and they started down the trail. They stopped a few feet in, and started laughing. She moved her weapon holster to the small of her back, took down her hair from her work ponytail, and took his hand again.

"I don't think I've ever actually worn my gun on a date before," she said.

"I don't think I've ever actually been on a date with another cop before, so I didn't think of it," Speedle said.

"So you're not wearing your sidearm at all?" Dayna asked.

"I hardly think I'm going to need it this evening," Speed said, drawing her to him for a quick kiss.

They started back down the trail, hearing parrots and monkeys in the trees around them. They came to the first viewing area and lights came up to gently illuminate the play area. Young chimps were flying from tree to tree, hardly seeming to look where to grab. Dayna pointed out one who was trying to wake one of the adults. The adult was desperately trying to stay asleep in the poking, pulling, and loud attack on slumber. Finally the adult rolled over and screamed at the younger chimp. The adolescent scampered away to another tree.

"That poor woman," Dayna said, even as she laughed at the antics.

"What makes you think it's a female?"

"Because that's the way I act when someone wakes me up."

As they left the area, the lights gently turned off. Someone was obviously monitoring their progress, making sure everything was going smoothly.

"Do you like it?" Speed asked.

"It's amazing."

In between the various stops the couple talked. Speed told her about growing up in New York, about his family, about what he liked about his job, and what he hated. What he did on a normal day off. His favorite places in the city. He even told her about Jack, his best friend, whose death brought him finally to Miami and into Megan Donnor's CSI team. He had told Megan about Jack, but no one since then. Dayna told him about Houston, her partner Lindsey, the best cases she had had, and the worst. She told him about her favorite movies, favorite authors, and favorite ice cream. She told him about why she had become a cop, and the differences between what she thought it was going to be like, and the reality.

At each of the animal enclaves, though, they found other things to talk about. The aviary stops where the birds were so strangely colored it was hard to believe it was natural. The monkey stops where the animals seemed to put on shows specifically for their audience of two.

By the end of the trail they had found out most of each other's lives, likes and dislikes. They had laughed and exclaimed at the animals, kissed several more times, and arrived at the restaurant. Any awkwardness they had felt on the beach and at the beginning of the walk had evaporated, leaving them with the usual pleasure they felt in each others company.

The restaurant was in the middle of a Japanese botanical garden, beautiful and soothing. They walked in, and were met by the Mr. and Mrs. Valentino, the owners of the Italian restaurant Speed had introduced Dayna to. Mrs. Valentino showed them to their table, the only people in the huge dining room.

"This whole place is just for you two tonight. I'm so happy," she said as she bustled around, seating Dayna, then Tim. She patted Tim on the cheek, then walked off quickly, returning with a white wine. She poured them each a glass, put the bottle on ice, near the table. She walked off, singing an Italian song softly to herself. Soon soft Italian music, although not sung by Mrs. Valentino, came into the room. Unlike many restaurants, where the music is so loud it competes with conversation, this was gentle and soft, merely making sure any pauses in talking were not made uncomfortable.

Speed picked up his glass of wine, and held it up to Dayna. Dayna picked up hers in response.

"To you," Speed said, touching his glass to hers.

"To us," Dayna responded. Speed felt his breath catch, then scolded himself for acting like a little girl. _Why are you so surprised she feels the way you want her to feel?_

They each drank from their wine, and talked some more. The salad course came out, exquisitely laid out on the plates. Over the salad they started talking about work. It was inevitable; it was something they had in common, and something that they could talk about with few outside of the job. Speed told her about the case with the homeless man, and finding Adamson's car. Dayna told him about the case she had just finished with Calleigh and Horatio, a man murdered by his wife's best friend.

When Mrs. Valentino came over to clear the plates and refill the wine she clucked disapproval at their conversational topic. "Primo is making his specialty for you tonight. He has never made it for anyone who is not family. Please don't talk about dead people when you eat it, it will break his heart. It would, his heart would be in pieces, and I would have to put it back together for him. It would take me months, if it could be done at all. So, please, we will speak of dead people no more." She looked at them, pleadingly.

"Yes, ma'am," Dayna said obediently. Mrs. Valentino walked away, mollified. She never made it to the kitchen. The doors flew open, and Mr. Valentino walked out carrying a platter with a silver cover. He marched over to the table, for all the world looking like a man carrying jewels to a queen. He put the platter down, and removed the cover with a wide arc of his arm. He began to serve the entrée, a pasta dish with some kind of cream sauce. He waited until Dayna and Tim each took a bite, then watched anxiously for their reactions. It was magnificent. It was creamy, and spicy, and the flavors changed in your mouth from tasting of herbs to the delicious taste of lobster.

Neither Tim nor Dayna could actually manage to say anything. Apparently taking this as a high compliment, Mr. Valentino walked away humming to himself.

It began as a silent dinner, both of them eating the amazing pasta with extreme concentration. After the novelty of the dish began to release its hold on them, conversation flowed again. Work and death were not touched on again; music and literature were the new focus. Dayna had never heard of Tim's favorite bands, and she was horrified to find most of his reading was work related. Tim found out that Dayna loved most genres of music, but was horrified in his turn to find that included both eighties and country.

"Really country? You're not just saying that?" he asked her.

"I love country. Anyone with a heart should love country," she said.

"Is this a Texas thing?"

"No, actually, most of the Texans I know hate country music. But I love it," she said, defiantly.

"Hmm. Well, I guess I like you anyway," Speed said, then grinned.

* * *

Music was actually on the menu for the evening's entertainment. The left Parrot Island, after showering the Valentino's with thanks and praise, and headed to the next stop on Speedle's agenda.

They went to a tiny bar in the heart of downtown called _YaMans_. There were about thirty chairs arranged around a stage, all appeared to be occupied. It was hard to tell, though, because the interior was very dark, and every person in the place seemed to be dressed in black.

A Goth woman walked up to the two and said, "Detectives Speedle and Campbell?" Tim nodded. "This way, please." She walked them past the seated people, to a table with a "reserved" sign on it. "The show is going to start in ten minutes," she said, taking away the sign, then walked away. A waitress came over and put down two glasses of red wine in front of them.

Dayna leaned closer to Tim and whispered, "What's this one, then?"

"An adventure?" Speed whispered back.

It turned out to be a jam session between the musicians of three local bands. The bass and piano player from a metal band called "Spikes," the lead guitar and drummer from a dance band called "U Want 1 2" and the singer from a folk band "Addictions."

With three such different styles, the first 30 minutes were a learning process. After that, however, they melded into a style of music Tim had never heard before. The musicians got better as they discarded the parts of their personal music that didn't fit the new style, and strengthen the parts that did work. It was almost three hours later that the bar emptied, everyone riding the music that was still humming in their veins. Tim and Dayna were following the others out the door when the hostess pulled them over.

"It's almost two A.M. Are you two ready for more?" she asked.

Tim looked at Dayna, who nodded at him. "Yeah, what's going on?"

The hostess grinned, her teeth startling through her dark, dark red lipstick. "There was this red-haired man here with his woman. There weren't any seats for them, so they sat at the bar. He told me to give this to you if you were up for it. He gave me one too, just to do it. You two obviously made an impression on him." The woman handed a metal disk to Speedle. When he looked at it, he realized it was a VIP access medallion for _Secrets_ the newest, hottest club Miami had to offer.

"Okay, this I didn't actually plan." Speed said, handing the medallion over to Dayna.

"Wow, these are impossible to get. Horatio had this? And he gave it away? Wait a minute, that means he saw us together," Dayna said, her brows drawing down.

Tim thanked the hostess, took Dayna by the hand, and drew her outside. He looked at her, and saw the idea of Horatio knowing about them upset her.

"Hey, Dayna, I never intended us to be a secret. I want you, and I want us to be together, and I'm not planning on sneaking around to do it. Let me know now if you see things differently."

Dayna looked at him, then shook her head, "No, I guess not. It's just something I wasn't expecting."

It wasn't until later that Speed realized he didn't know if she meant having other cops know about them, or his reaction to being with her.

* * *

The club _Secrets_ was a beautiful building, set apart from the other clubs on the strip. Although it was past two in the morning, now a Tuesday, the club was in full swing. The dance floor was to the left, and packed. The music playing was more flowing than forceful, and the people were simply swaying. From the amount of sweat on the dancers this was a slow song to give the crowd a breather. To the right was a large room with over a dozen recessed alcoves. Each alcove had a small table, a deep high-backed couch, and the entrances each had a curtain that could be drawn closed.

As they were walking past Speed noticed a green light come on over the door of a closed-curtained room. A waitress went over, turned off the light, and ducked inside.

"Vice must hate this place," Dayna murmured to him. "Can you imagine how many drug deals are going on behind those curtains?"

"That's not the only thing going on behind them," he said, just as quietly. He nodded his head in the direction of a couple just coming out from one. As the couple headed to the dance floor Dayna could see what had caught Speed's eye. Dark red, lacy underwear was peeking out of the top of the man's pants pocket.

One of the bouncers was escorting them up the stairs and to the back, the VIP lounge. It was ... discreet. It was a dark room with recessed lighting. They could recognize several prominent Miami figures. None of them were alone, but few were with their spouses. The music in here was softer, and several couples were holding onto each other, quietly moving to the rhythm.

There were small couches scattered in the room. Speed started for an unoccupied one, but Dayna pulled him over to an empty spot on the floor. She took his hands, and guided his arms around her waist, moving her hands to his shoulders. She leaned against him, her forehead nestling into his neck. Tim tightened his arms, holding her even closer. They were barely moving, only slightly swaying to the music; simply holding each other. Speedle moved his hands on her back, his right hand moving up, and his left sliding down to the small of Dayna's back. There was an odd feeling in his chest, and it seemed to be directly linked to her scent. The closer he held her, the more the essence of her overwhelmed him, the thicker the tendrils in his body grew.

_What is this? Am I panicking? Am I tired? What's going on?_ Tim could feel his body start to stiffen, and he could hear a questioning mumble come from Dayna. Since she was talking into his chest he couldn't understand her, but hearing her calmed him. He rubbed her back and settled back down.

A white, expensively dressed man walked over to them and touched each of them lightly on the shoulder. They separated, turning to the intruder.

"What the hell?" Tim asked, upset at losing the moment so soon after getting it back.

"I do apologize. My name is Bruce, and this is my club. I normally don't like interrupting people when they're so obviously having a good time in my place, but this should only take a moment. Ma'am, you are wearing a gun in my club. This is a designated safe place, nothing can happen to you while you are here. The gun is unnecessary, I can assure you. Would you like to give it to me for safekeeping?"

Dayna gave the club owner a long, cold look. "No."

"If you do not hand over your weapon, or leave, I will be forced to call the police. That will mean unpleasantness, and that is something I wish to avoid."

"The police are here," Dayna said, pulling her badge from her back pocket and handing it to the man.

"Let me reassure you, Bruce, your club is safer with her wearing that gun then it would be otherwise. Detective Campbell is one of the best," Tim said.

The owner inspected the badge, then handed it back to Dayna, "My apologies again for interrupting. Please enjoy yourself." He left them, walking about to his other guests.

"You want to go sit now?" Speed asked, feeling the moment was broken beyond repair.

"Yeah, that would be good," Dayna said.

Speed automatically took her hand, keeping her close to him, keeping contact. They settled onto a couch, their legs touching, still holding hands. Tim moved his right hand, the one holding Dayna's left, so that the back of her hand was on top. He traced invisible patterns on her hand and arm with his free hand. They were barely talking, both exhausted from a day that started at work almost twenty-four hours ago. Speed knew he should get them out of there while he still had enough energy to drive them safely. _But I like this so much. Just a little while longer._

Dayna put her free hand to her mouth, covering a huge yawn. He looked at her as she settled her head against his shoulder.

"Come on, we need to go," he said.

"No, I'm alright. I'm just relaxed."

Speedle's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You get any more relaxed and you'll start snoring. Let's get you home."

Dayna laughed, and then stood up with Tim. He leaned in for a kiss, and twined his fingers into her hair.

They went down to the bike; before Speed started it he asked Dayna, "Where do you live?"

"You're not taking me to my car?"

"I know how much you love that car. Do you really want to drive it when you're this tired?"

"Ah. I live on Silverbranch."

"I know that street," Speed said, as Dayna settled behind him. When he felt her arms go around his waist he started the bike.

He drove to the apartment complex, turned off his bike, and walked her to her door. He tried to stifle it, but a yawn escaped.

Dayna smiled, and asked him in. "You cannot get back on that bike until you have some coffee."

"I don't drink coffee."

"Something with caffeine in it then. Sit down, I'll get you something."

Speed sat on the sofa, feeling bone tired and completely content. He shifted until he was wedged into the crook between the arm and back of the seat, listening to the sounds of Dayna in the kitchen. _So comfortable, here and now._

He opened his eyes, and the room was dark. He couldn't recognize where he was for a second, but then felt Dayna next to him. He was still on the couch, his legs propped up, his boots off and neatly arranged next to the wall. Dayna was asleep next to him, her head nestled against his arm. She hadn't changed clothes, but had taken off her shoes too, and covered them both with a blanket. Tim moved his left arm as gently as he could, so he was holding her with it instead of her leaning on it. He kissed her hair, then went back to sleep.


	8. Part Seven

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Seven

The next time he woke he was alone, the sun was blazing outside, and he could hear the shower in the next room. He stretched and checked his watch. It was almost noon. The shower stopped and a few minutes later Dayna walked out. She was dressed in blue jeans and a grey T-shirt, her wet hair pulled back in her daily ponytail.

"You're awake. Good morning." Dayna walked over and kissed him. Speed kissed her back, running his fingers through her hair, taking out her hairband.

When the kissed stopped he looked at her for a second, then handed her the band. "I'm sorry, I just love the way your hair feels."

"I'll leave it down," she smiled. "Do you want to use the shower?"

"I'd rather use mine. Then I can change my clothes, brush my teeth, shave ... you know, all the civilized things."

"You shave?" she said, then laughed at his expression. "You need to take me to my car, too."

They got on the bike, and started the drive. At the first stoplight, though, Speed twisted around and asked, "Hey, are you hungry?" He had to holler to be heard through the helmets and over the bike. Dayna just nodded. Speed changed direction, and headed for his home.

As they walked into his apartment, he threw his keys on the side table. "Let me get cleaned up, and I'll make you lunch."

"You cook?" Dayna asked.

"I grew up in restaurant kitchens -- picked up a thing or two. Make yourself at home."

A quick shower, a quick shave, and brushing his teeth got him back to feeling human. He had decided to make chicken with a lemon and caper sauce. It was quick, easy, and could relied on to impress. He grinned at himself in the mirror. He put on a black button down shirt and a pair of jeans.

He walked back into the living room, hearing soft music playing on his sound system. Dayna was looking through his records and CDs, barefoot and cross-legged on the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her gun in its holster on the counter to the kitchen. She noticed him, put the record back with the collection and stood up. She walked over to him, and stood close.

"Last night was the most perfect night of my life. Want to know what my favorite part was?"

Speed nodded.

"When we were dancing at the club, and you had your arms around me. I want to dance like that again. Will you dance with me like that again?"

Speed wrapped his arms around her. They began to move softly move to the music. Last night, when they had both been tired, the dance had felt bonding, wholesome, maybe even a little domestic: a feeling that he could have held her like that forever. He realized now that had been the feeling in his chest, he couldn't recognize it at the time.

Now that he had slept, feeling her rub against him, even slightly, sent Speed's mind in directions that did not include lunch. He leaned his head down to her neck and inhaled deeply. He kissed her neck, moved up to her ear, licking the lobe. Dayna giggled, and Speed stopped and looked at her.

"Now would probably be a good time to let you know that I'm incredibly ticklish," she said.

"Oh really? Ticklish where, exactly?" Speed asked. He touched her side, and saw her jerk away laughing. She backed away, still laughing. He slowly followed her, his fingers waving in the air. "You know, I think I'm going to like this."

"Like what, exactly?" Dayna asked, putting the table between them. Speed walked around, step by step, not hurrying.

"Like this," he said, then ran over to her, catching her easily. He raced his fingers over her side and neck. She screeched, and laughed, actually falling to the ground as she tried to twist away from his feather touches. He went to the ground with her, stretched out, pinning her beneath him. He stopped tickling, and looked at her. She was still laughing in spurts when he leaned in. He kissed her, and he started moving his hands again, this time not tickling, but stroking her skin. Her hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it, then using the fabric to pull him closer, their mouths sealed to each other. Tim grinned while still kissing her, and that was the only warning he gave her as he tickled her again. Having her wiggle beneath was a tactical error; much more and he wouldn't be able to get his pants off in time.

_Periodic table?_ Images of Dayna changing clothes into that red dress flashed through his mind. _That's not going to work._

He rolled off her, stood up, and helped her to her feet. He walked her backwards into his bedroom, pulling her shirt over her head. He turned on the light as they walked past the switch.

He ran the back of his fingers over her breast, loving how soft they were. Dayna finished taking the shirt off of him. She ran her hands over his chest, sliding her hands down until they met his jeans. Her hands scrambled with the belt for a second, she pulled it tight, then loose, pulling it through the loops of his jeans.

Speed pulled Dayna's brassiere straps off her shoulders, kissing the top of her left shoulder as he reached around her back, unhooking her black bra. He drew the lacy undergarment away from her, letting it drop to the floor. Seeing her breasts free, he felt his blood pound through him. His lips curled up, smiling in appreciation and anticipation.

Dayna looked at him, her eyes so dilated only the smallest ring of grey surrounded the pupil. She reached up and traced his smile with the fingers of her right hand. Her breathing was shallow, and she grinned up at him. She tried to unclasp his jeans as he tried to hers, but it got complicated. They separated long enough for each to remove their own, and stood facing each other, completely naked.

Tim guided Dayna to the bed, laying her down, and stretching out beside her. He ran his hands along her skin, touching every part he could reach. She caught his face with her hands, pulling her to him. He discovered where she liked to be touched by paying attention to her breathing. When she started breathing faster and lighter, he kept his hand there longer. The small of her back, the area around her navel, the sides of her breasts. His hand went between her legs, and she stopped breathing altogether. He played with her lightly until her nails started digging into his back. He rolled on top of her, but didn't enter her yet. He kissed her breasts, rolling a nipple with his teeth.

"Jesus. Christ." Dayna got out, separating each word. "If I had known you were sadistic, I never would have started this."

_It better be now._ He reached over to the table, pulled the drawer and grabbed a condom.

"Tell me what you like," he got out between his teeth, putting the rubber on.

She started laughing, making Tim pause. "At this point? I would like you in me. Now."

"Your wish, my command." He tried to go in slowly, but lost a little of his control, and entered her completely with his first stroke. _Tight. Oh Christ, tight. _He held himself absolutely still, breathing into her hair, fighting his own body for control.

"Tim?"

"Stay really still for a second, babe, or I'm going to live up to my nickname." He slowly began to move, stroking in and out, his weight on his forearms.

"Don't you dare hold back on me," Dayna said into his ear, her legs hooked around his, her hands on his back.

His conscious mind shut down, and he slammed into her again and again, this time not being able to slow down. He watched her eyes close, felt her tighten on him, and felt his body start to turn to fire as Dayna shuddered underneath him. _Fireworks._

* * *

"Now what?" Dayna asked him.

"If you give me a few minutes to recover, I've got some ideas."

They had eventually ordered out. Chinese delivered to the door was more convenient for them, the saved time being used for things much more fun than cooking.

They were eating in the bed, Tim leaning up against the headboard. Dayna had pulled on his discarded shirt from the other room, but hadn't put on anything else. Her knees where on either side of his thighs, and she was resting her weight on her heels, her feet flat against the bed.

"That's not what I meant." Dayna said, after swallowing her food. Then she paused, "Really? Again?"

Tim raised and lowered his eyelids at her quickly. He would have smirked, but was chewing. During the second session of the night he had tried tickling her during the act, and could feel her laugh up and down his length. He had never experienced that before, and was intensely interested in having it happen again. _Soon. _

"So what do you mean?" Speed put his fork into the container, and ran his hand up her thigh.

"We're going to take this a day at a time, right?"

Speed nodded at her, then thought about what she was asking. He made his living looking beyond the obvious – sometimes annoying in the "real" world, but sometimes a lifesaver. _Like now, for instance. _"Why don't we start with the assumption of an exclusive relationship, and take everything else a day at a time." _And that was the right thing to say,_ Speed thought, as Campbell took his container from him, and put both on the side table. She grinned wickedly as she unbuttoned the shirt she had appropriated.

Leaning down, she whispered into his ear, "You recovered yet?"

* * *

"So, who do you think is going to give us the harder time? CSI or Homicide?" Dayna asked Speed as they finished up breakfast.

"Homicide. Definitely." Speed said. He picked up the plates and put them in his sink. "Your car has been there since I picked you up Monday evening -- I'm getting you back Wednesday morning. The building is full of detectives, and it's not that hard to put together. On top of that, cops are more relentless when it comes to getting into personal lives than scientists. I think you're going to have a much harder time than I am."

"You don't think the other CSIs are going to tease you?"

"Sure, but not like you're going to get. Plus I'm a guy. When people find out who you're sleeping with, you'll lose some of your mystery. When they find out who I'm sleeping with, it just make me more manly."

Dayna looked at him, then shook her head, "Oh damn. You're not kidding. And you're right. That's not fair."

"Fair?"

"Well, it's not. Okay, I'm ready to take 'em all on. Let's go," Dayna walked to the door, motorcycle helmet in hand, badge back on the chair around her neck, gun on her side.

* * *

"You realize you two can no longer work on cases together," Horatio said from his side of the table.

"I figured as much. Let me guess, something about being distracted, not giving the case one hundred percent," Speed said from the visitor chair in Horatio's office.

"Would you? Would you be able to work a case as efficiently if you knew Dayna was going to be on it?" Horatio looked genuinely curious.

"You work cases with Yelina all the time."

"Yelina is family, which is not exactly the same thing as working a case with your girlfriend. And that question, by the way, was a not very subtle evasion."

"I honestly don't know what would be more distracting ... working on a case with her and seeing her possibly in danger, or not working on it with her and never knowing when she was going up against something that could hurt her. Bethany doesn't exactly bake cookies for a living, how do you deal with it?" Speed asked.

"We talk a lot." Horatio smiled as Speed rolled his eyes. "The first time she came home with stitches was the first fight we had. It's hard knowing that someone you love could be hurt any day, but we're hardly the first people to deal with it. You weight the fear against the love, and try to make every minute with them count."

"I don't know how to be that 'Hallmark-y'."

"You'll learn, or you'll lose her. Let's get out of here, we've got cases," H stood up with Tim, and the two men walked out of the office.

"Hey, H?" Speed said before they took separate halls. "Thanks."

"Anytime."


	9. Part Eight

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Eight

It was a few weeks later when Horatio talked to Speed about a case.

"You had a body of a homeless man who had cuts?"

"Yeah, Tripp and I had that one. It's a cold case, we couldn't get anywhere on it."

"It's hot again. There's another homeless kid, this one is no more than sixteen. He was shot and left, but he's got a dozen cuts on him. Campbell and I got him this morning. I think we're all working the same case."

"A serial? Someone who's preying on the homeless?" Speed asked.

Horatio nodded, eyes hard with anger, lips compressed. "Someone who thinks no one will notice or care enough to protect these people. We are going to teach him how very wrong he is," he said.

Speed pulled off his lab coat. "Let's go look at the body, find out what Alexx can tell us," he said.

Alexx was waiting for them in the theater. Both CSIs were there, as well as both homicide detectives.

"He was shot three times in the back. Expert shooting, any of the three shot could be the one that killed him."

"Shot in the back? So someone sneaking up for a random victim, someone the victim knew enough to turn his back on, or someone he was running from?" Dayna asked Alexx.

"I think he was running," Alexx said, moving to the head of the body. "He was shot in a park, with gravel walkways. Look at the lacerations on his face. Those would need momentum as he hit the ground. But since they're on his face, and not his hands, he was already dead when he hit the ground. People will put their hands out to catch their fall, even if they've been shot." Alexx explained.

"Jesus." Tripp said. "On our body there was evidence that his health habits had recently improved, but he had a history of neglect and alcohol abuse. Is that true on this one too?"

Alexx held up one of the arms, "This one was into needles rather than bottles, but other than that, it looks the same. Stomach contents had chicken, broccoli, and potato. The needle marks are all healing, no fresh ones. No heroin, no alcohol, no drugs at all in his tox screen. Same kind of cuts on his body, though."

Horatio thanked Alexx with his customary graveness, and all four left the post-op theater.

"How do you want to do this?" Tripp asked.

It was Dayna who answered him, "This guy was gunned down in a public park. Somebody saw something; I'm going find out what happened."

"Tripp, you go with her. Tim and I will work the clothes – see what matches the previous victim, and what differences there are. I'm betting this one has more trace on it, too. Meet back here this evening, see what we have to work with."

* * *

In the early evening, when the detectives walked back into the lab, everyone was grim. Horatio and Speedle had gone over the clothes millimeter by millimeter, and hadn't found anything that would identify the victim, or narrow down why the man was killed.

The detectives looked even more frustrated. Frustrated was actually too mild a word for the tempers of the two cops – furious was closer to accurate.

"Did you run this John Doe's prints?" Tripp and Campbell asked in unison, walking in the door.

"Hello to you too. Yes, we ran the prints. There was nothing in the system, we would have called if we had a name." Speed said.

"Damn it." Tripp looked at Campbell, who looked back, arms crossed, radiating hostility. "They're lying, they have to be. There are other explanations."

Dayna twisted her mouth, then said, "Like what? Every single one of them is lying, Tripp? Something is off about this, and it might be because ..."

"What are you, IAD? This is a group of people who have no love for cops, give them the slightest excuse to scream 'abuse' and they will." Tripp had his hands on his hips, standing face to face with Campbell.

"What did you just call me? Listen, you asshole, I don't like the idea any more than you do, but it would answer a lot of questions, like how we keep on running into brick walls."

"Hey! What's going on here?" Horatio called the room to order.

Tripp and Campbell glared at each other for a full second, then Dayna jerked her hand towards the older detective.

Tripp looked at Horatio and Speedle and said, "We found plenty of witnesses to the shooting. It happened in an area of the park that isn't frequented by the Monday to Friday crowd: a lot of vagrants hang out there. They all say, well they all say that this guy was shot down by a cop."

"A cop? That's impossible," Horatio automatically said, then looked troubled.

Dayna picked up the reporting, "It gets worse. Apparently this isn't the first time this cop has been seen in the area, or with this particular kid. Multiple witnesses told us that this cop originally picked this John Doe up on a trumped up loitering charged, put him in cuffs, and put him in the back of the car. Now the cop wasn't in uniform, and it wasn't a squad car, but it had a cherry light, and the guy flashed a badge. Descriptions of the cop and the vehicle were all over the map."

"The prints aren't in the system. That argues against this guy being a real cop." Speed said.

"That's what I'm saying," Tripp said, turning to face Campbell again.

"The fact that the brass stepped in argues that the guy's a cop," Dayna said.

"Wait a minute, what do you mean the brass stepped in?" Horatio asked.

"Tripp and I were summoned to the chief's office today. We were told that we were wasting police resources, and if we didn't want to be busted back to traffic we would find better ways of occupying our time."

"What the hell?" Speed asked.

"Pretty much the same question I asked the chief. We were told to back off. End of discussion," Dayna said.

"We haven't had that discussion with the chief. We'll keep working the case," Horatio said.

"Oh, we're still working the case. First thing we need to find out is who's got something over the chief's head: it's got to be blackmail," Dayna said.

"God damn, what the hell have we stepped in," Speed asked the room.

"Alright, everyone go home, get some rest. We've got several fights coming at us, and we need to be sharp enough to win them all. Meet back here tomorrow at seven," Horatio said.

* * *

"I brought pizza," Speed said, walking past her into the apartment. He had been home long enough to pick up an overnight bag, grabbed dinner and had gone over.

Dayna closed the door, turned and kissed him. "Did you talk to H about his change of heart? I thought we weren't supposed to work cases together anymore," she asked as she walked back into the living room.

"According to H, we aren't working the case together. You're working a murder with him, Tripp and I are working one together, and then Tripp and Horatio are working together to compare with similarities."

Dayna rolled her eyes and said, "Kind of complicated, isn't it?"

"Sure, but if it keeps the higher-ups off our backs, I'm happy." He put the pizza on the counter, went into the kitchen and grabbed plates and napkins. He walked out to the table in time to see Dayna moving a bunch of things to the foot table in the living room. "What's all this?"

"It's the first of the month. I do some cleaning on the first of every month. Doors, baseboards," they smiled at each other at that one, "and my gun."

"You clean your gun on the first of every month?" Speed asked.

"Yeah, it's an easy way to remember to do it?"

"What if you don't have time on the first? Do you bump it to the second?" Tim asked.

"Nope, it still gets done on the first. I don't go to bed until it's done. Are you laughing at me?" Dayna picked up a sofa cushion and threw it at Tim.

"Hey, hey, man with pizza, no throwing stuff." Tim put the utensils on the table, then grabbed the box from the counter. "I'm not laughing at you. If you want, I'll do mine with you after dinner. That will make Calleigh happy, the last time she looked at my gun I got a lecture." They started to eat while they talked.

"Cal gave you a lecture? Really?"

"Yeah, well I deserved it. My gun misfired in an ambush."

"But you've been cleaning it since then, right?" Dayna asked around a bite of pepperoni.

"It's not that I don't want to clean my gun, there's just always something better to do."

Dayna out the slice down, and wiped her fingers on her napkin. "Better to do? Like what?"

"Like this," he said, snaking a hand around to tickle her side.

"Uh-uh, buddy. You may not clean your gun, but I do mine. No foolin' around until after." She got up and washed her hands. "Okay, let's see your weapon."

Speedle's mouth was full, so he pointed to the side table, where he had placed his gun and badge.

Dayna took it over to the foot table in the living room, and unloaded it, careful to keep it separate from her own weapon.

"Tim, oh Jesus."

Tim put away the dishes and walked into the living room. Dayna's eyebrows were drawn down, and she was looking into Tim's gun with a look of disgust. "I told you that I didn't clean it. Usually its because I'm figuring out how someone's been murdered, or it's after work, when I like to recover from dealing with death – I don't want to be reminded of it by cleaning my gun." Tim was getting defensive and angry.

Dayna looked at him, took a deep breath and opened her mouth, then stopped. She stood up, carefully put Speedle's weapon on the little table, and said, "Just give me minute, I need to do something." She walked into her bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind her.

Speed looked around for something to do. _I could leave; avoid our first fight for a little while._ His eye fell on the two guns, next to the cleaning kit, on the table in front of him. _I know what I'm not doing. _Stubbornness welled up in Speed, and he sat down at the dining room table, arms crossed, his right ankle propped on his left knee, and glared at the bedroom door. After a few minutes he uncrossed his arms, got up and cleaned off the table of the leftover pizza, dirty plates, used napkins. He took are of it all in the kitchen, then looked around for something else to do. He heard the bedroom door open, and walked out into the living room to confront Dayna.

Whatever fighting he was planning on doing died when Dayna walked over to him, went on her tiptoes to kiss him. The kiss was hard, designed to inflame, her hands in his hair, her mouth sealed to his. _That's not what I was expecting._

"Can we talk?" Dayna asked, after breaking away from him, and stepping back.

_The three little words every man dreads._ "Okay."

Dayna sat at the dining room table, and leaned back in her chair, not letting Tim touch her. "I'm about to break several of my personal rules for being in a relationship, and I wanted to tell you about it."

"Huh? I don't understand what you mean, what personal rules?"

Dayna smiled at him, "The one's about to tell you about. You want a beer?"

"Absolutely. I'm all for delaying this as long as possible."

Dayna grabbed two beers from the fridge, opened them, and brought them to the table. She took a deep breath. "Okay, the thing is, I don't nag people. I hate nagging, and I hate being nagged..."

"That's the rule you're going to break? 'Cause I don't want to be nagged," Tim broke in.

"No, that's not the rule. Let me finish, okay? If I ask you to do something, I may remind you about it once, and if you still don't do it, I let it drop. So I'm not going to nag you about your gun. It's your gun, and you don't have to clean it if you don't want to."

"That's ... unexpected," Tim said, warily.

"Now we're getting to the breaking the rules part. I don't like manipulating people I care about, and I hate using sex as a way to get what I want. But I'm going to manipulate you right now, and I'm going to use sex to do it. I respect you enough to tell you what I'm doing up front, to your face, but that doesn't make it any less of ... whatever."

"What? If I don't clean my gun you're not going to sleep with me?" Tim asked, getting angry again.

"No! God damn it, let me finish. Hear me out, I'll you know when I'm done," Dayna took a swallow of beer, and met Tim's eyes straight on. "What I'm offering is a chance, once a month, to indulge your fantasies."

Tim stopped getting angry. He also stopped breathing. His throat went dry, and he swallowed some beer to help. He took a deep breath, and said, "What?" hoping it came out smooth and suavely, but suspecting it sounded more like a croak. He couldn't judge himself, over the roar of testosterone rushing into his system.

"Don't get me wrong, we can do fun stuff during the month as well, but I'm giving you one day a month where anything you say, we do."

"What?"

"Cleaning your gun with me, on the first of every month, is where the manipulation comes in. If you clean your gun, you get anything you want. Even if it's something I've said 'no' to before. Not that saying 'no' is ever going to happen."

"I don't want to do anything with you that you don't want to do, whether or not it's part of a deal," Speed said, a little offended, but mostly not.

"You don't get it: On that day, I'll want to. I may not any other day of the month, but on that special day, I'll be honestly enthusiastic. Guaranteed."

"How can you promise that?"

"Because this is something I want to do. Because thinking of you walking around with a dirty gun makes my stomach hurt, and the thought of you cleaning it makes me very, very receptive. Because it'll be fun. I probably would have come up with it anyway, but doing it this way means we have something to look forward to every month. I hate that I'm using this to get your gun clean, but I love the idea."

_You have no idea what you're getting into. Women have no clue what kind of thoughts go through a man's mind on an hourly basis. Still, she's not exactly shy about telling me what she likes. I'm sure she'll tell me if she wants to stop. And it's not like I'm ever going to get this kind of offer again._

Dayna searched Tim's face, trying to read his thoughts by watching his reactions. "So, what do you think?" she asked, sounding a little anxious.

"I think ... I think you've got a deal. Can I use your kit this time?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

The four investigators didn't meet again for several days. When they did, it was after lunch on a rainy day, an emergency meeting called by Dayna, but at the crime lab.

"I know that you two have to concentrate on your other cases right now, but have you found out anything else we can use?" Horatio asked.

Tripp was the first to speak, "Yeah. I think it is a cop making these people disappear." Dayna's head whipped around to look at him. "Hey, I've been looking too."

Dayna smiled at him, "Go ahead, you go first,"

"There have been dozens of kids who've gone missing. All of them homeless, and it's always the same story: a guy comes up, starts talking, flashes a badge, takes off with someone."

"Yeah, we knew that before. That doesn't mean the guy's a real cop," Speedle said.

"Except I've gone and talked to some of the people who run the shelters in town. When they tell this guy that they're coming too, the kids get processed. It's always some BS charge, but those kids get into the system."

Horatio asked, "So who's the arresting officer?"

"We don't know."

"How can we not know? What's the name on the report?" Dayna asked.

"All of the arrests go to a uniform, and a different uniform ever time. None of them will talk to me, because they'd be"

"ratting out someone who did them a favor," Tripp and Dayna finished the sentence together.

"Son of a bitch," Dayna added.

"Did you get anything?" Tripp asked Dayna.

"Yeah. The suicide rate among the homeless is always high, but lately it's gone through the roof. It's because people's children have been taken from them. Not teenagers; younger than that. I've heard down to five years old. The guy doing it," Dayna took a deep breath, "has been flashing a badge. He's been saying he's from child protective services, but when the people manage to get over there to visit their kids, there no where in the system, no where to be found. The parents can't go to the police, because it's the police who are taking the kids."

Everyone in the room went very still. Horatio was the first to move; he turned his back on the other three, head bowed, hands on his hips.

Speed's mind went through the possibilities, all of them dark and dangerous. "How many people have been taken by this man?"

"We don't know exactly. These people think that cops are making them disappear, as soon as they see my badge the shut up and run. They sure as hell don't think I'm there to help them. My best guess would be over a dozen kids, ranging from five to nineteen. I'm trying to convince them I'm trying to help, but they're scared. I can't blame them, either."

Horatio rejoined the group, his face completely devoid of emotion. "Keep working on them, Dayna. Make them trust you. We've got a dozen kids of missing, and we've only got two bodies. They might be alive out there somewhere, and we're going to find them. The man has got to be identified and stopped, and I don't care what it takes."

"Are we going to bring in internal affairs?" Dayna asked him.

"Like they'll help. They couldn't even tell us ... about ... Adamson," Speed said, trailing off at the end, as his mind started putting Adamson into the context of the case.

Tripp was obviously thinking along the same lines, "We saw his car in the area the evidence placed the first victim. And we know he's got protection from IAD, so he wouldn't have to be shy about flashing his badge or showing his face. And all of the eyewitnesses do agree that the cop is a white male. Their details after that go all over the place, though."

"Let's get him in here," Dayna said, standing up to go pick him up immediately.

"Hold it, the last time I tried to talk to Adamson the brass told me to back off. Since we're already dodging around them to work this case, and they said the next thing they would do is to bust us to traffic. Now that we know why they're focusing on us, they may go straight to suspension. We'll put Adamson under surveillance, and see where he takes us," Tripp told Campbell.

"I don't like this. Those kids are out there ..." Dayna started.

"And we have to be able to help them," Tripp finished. "I don't like it either, but I'll like it less to have them moved, or to have the only people willing and able to work the case shut down. If you can come up with a better way, just let me know."

"Maybe. You start watching him now; I'll catch up with you later. Let me try something." Dayna walked quickly out of the room.

Tripp sighed heavily, then left to find Adamson. Horatio and Speed looked at each other.

"Have we been able to find anything forensic that can help us?" Tim asked his boss.

"Nothing that gives us a location. Nothing that we can tie to Adamson. Nothing." Horatio left, his anger making his exit abrupt.


	10. Part Nine

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Nine

"The question I'm asking is: are you willing to help us in your off hours, knowing it could compromise your career if things go wrong? I'll protect you to my last breath, but I'll be one of the first they take down. That means if they come after you, they will have already gone through me. I didn't want to even ask you to do this, but Speed and Bethany have convinced me that not asking you would be considered insulting."

A few hours after the meeting with Dayna and Tripp, Horatio had called in Calleigh and Eric to his office. He and Tim had put the entire situation in front of them, all the evidence they had, all the suspicions, and the theory that Adamson was the killer.

"We want to keep Adamson under 24 hour surveillance. We can't do it, and still keep the illusion that we've given up on the case. That's where you two come in. With six people, four hour shifts, we can keep eyes on him and still look like we've shelved the case," Tim said.

"This creep is hurting kids; I'm in," Eric was the first to speak up.

Calleigh nodded her agreement, but still looked troubled. "What happens if we see him pick up a kid? Are we supposed to let him? Follow him back to the others?"

"You see him go within five feet of a kid, you take him down and bring him in. We'll deal with the fallout later. He does not lay his hands on another child, not while we're around."

"Tripp is watching him now, then Campbell will take over. Horatio is after that. When do you want to watch him?" Tim started organizing the schedule, keeping an eye to make sure no one got stretched too thin. He also made sure his shift on Adamson was never next to Dayna's, knowing that they would never just hand the shift over without talking. This had to be precise, juggling between the work shifts, surveillance, and down time. All in all, better to keep contact to home._ Besides, seeing her only a couple of hours a day will give you even more motivation to find the evidence against this guy._

* * *

The evidence never came. They days past, Adamson never went near anyone. Dayna hadn't told anyone her idea was, not even Tim. She did allude to it one time, though.

"Do you think there's ever a time when doing something illegal is okay?" she asked one time as they were going to sleep.

"What do you mean? Illegal like running a red light, or illegal like murder?"

"No, not like that. Never mind, I'll talk to you about it later," she said, and turned away from Tim.

She never did, Tim noticed, although he did ask her about it a time or two. She just told him "Never mind" and changed the subject.

* * *

Tim was in the lab, working on trace evidence from a case of Calleigh's when his cell phone went off.

"Tim, I'm downstairs in the Hummer. Get down here now," Horatio's voice sounded strained over the cell phone. H disconnected, and Speed wasted no time. In minutes he was in the passenger seat, pulling on the seat belt.

"What's going on?"

Horatio had his sunglasses on, and his face was drawn. His lips were tight, and Tim could see the white on the knuckles as they gripped the wheel.

"Is there another body?" Tim asked, as Horatio tore through the streets, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

"No. I'm taking you to the hospital. Dayna's been hurt."

Tim's vision tunneled, and his had a hard time finding enough breath to ask the question, "How bad?" His voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well, hollow and distant.

"I don't know yet. She fell through a floor in on old building, she landed on some lumber. She's lost some blood, and got knocked unconscious. They got her to Jackson Memorial. Tripp is there with her now." Horatio's sentences were staccato, short bursts of information. Despite that, Speed still felt he was only absorbing every other word.

Horatio stopped outside of the emergency doors, and let Tim get out, then he took off, presumably to find someplace for the Hummer.

Tim went inside, and saw Tripp, cup of coffee in hand, waiting for him.

"She's going to be okay, and we got the guy," were the first words out of the detective's mouth.

Speed had to sit down, his relief was so strong. "What happened? Tell me," he said when he trusted himself to form words. Horatio walked in, and Tripp repeated that Campbell was going to be fine.

"I don't know the whole story, just what Dayna told me over the phone. I'll tell you what I know, though. Dayna was approached by one of the homeless women she's been working on, trying to get them to trust her. The woman told her that she knew a man who could help us. She called me, told me what was going on, and she went with the woman. She called me when she knew where they were going, and I went to meet her. I got there just in time to hear the shots and see her fall."

"She was shot? I thought she fell through an old floor," Horatio said.

"She didn't go through a floor, she went through a roof. She was shot, and the impact knocked her down. She was wearing her vest. She went through a window to the outside, landed on a glass roof, and kept going down. How the glass didn't kill her, I'll never know. She's got some cuts on her arms, and she was knocked out, that was it. The doctors say she didn't even break any bones. We caught the kid who shot her, he's over there." He pointed at a kid handcuffed to a chair.

"Speed, sit down." Horatio's voice cut through Tim's mind like a whip. He realized he had stood up, and started for the boy. He looked at Horatio, and H put his hand on his shoulder, guiding him down. "I'll take him down to the station. You should stay here, be here for Dayna. I'll find out what the kid knows, I give you my word. Tripp, you take him to Dayna, and I'll meet you at the lab."

* * *

"I hate hospitals, you know. Ever since Jack died, I hate them. So I would appreciate it if you would wake up so we can get the hell out of here."

Speed watched Dayna not wake up at his words. He had already tried a kiss, which also hadn't worked.

"The doctors say you're going to be fine. You wouldn't want to prove them right, would you?"

It was the stillness of her body that bothered him the most; Dayna moved all the time in her sleep. He remembered how it kept him awake for weeks, every time they spent the night together. Then he would look at her arms, wrapped from wrist to shoulder in bandages. He knew that the bandages were wrapped underneath her gown as well, especially on her back. The glass should have killed her, the fall should have killed her, even the bullet could have. He remembered what Horatio had told him, weigh the fear against the love, and make every minute count.

He picked up her hand, and held it. "Please wake up Dayna, there's something I want to tell you," he said.

It was a few hours later when she did. Speed watched her eyes start to move under her lashes, open, find him, and focus.

"Tim?"

"Hi, babe," Speed leaned in and stroked her hair.

"What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Speed asked, watching her face.

"I remember Tracy coming up to me, and taking to a building. I remember ... that damn bitch set me up!" Dayna hollered the last, started sitting up in bed. Speed tried to keep her down, but she was too angry to notice gentle pressure, and he was scared to push down any harder.

"Dayna, you have to stay in bed. You have a head wound; you were knocked unconscious. You've got cuts all over your body from falling through two different kinds of glass, and you were bruised where the bullets impacted on you vest. You've got to be calm."

"Oh, the hell I do. Where are my pants? We're getting out of here. Tracy is going to tell me who she was working with, or she's going to find out there are worse things than being homeless."

"Tripp caught the guy who shot you. You need to sit down, please, Dayna."

"What has he said?"

"I don't know, I've been here with you," Speedle was talking to Campbell's back, as she opened every cabinet, closet, looked under the bed, and in the bathroom for her clothes, rolling the mobile IV behind her. He walked over, and took her gently by her white-wrapped wrist. "Please sit down, I want to talk to you."

Dayna allowed herself to be guided to the bed, and she did sit, but was still talking, "Speed I was shot. The man who shot me is being interrogated. I'm not there. We've got to go."

"No, we've got to stay until a doctor can look at you. You've got so many drugs in your system you can't feel your pain, but that's not going to last much longer. You need to have a doctor give you the okay to go, and quite frankly I doubt that will be anytime soon. They're going to want to monitor for internal bleeding, and once the meds wear off, you're not going to be able to bounce around like you haven't just dropped through a roof after being shot. Now, let me talk." Speed took the breath he needed after the unexpected monologue. "Okay, when you were unconscious, in this bed, you looked like you were dead. Do you realize you should be dead now? You were shot, dropped from a height onto a roof, then dropped another floor with glass as the only thing to break your fall. Oh, except for the wood you landed on, which knocked you out. That should have broken your back at the very least, more likely your neck. And watching you, realizing you should be dead by any laws of physics made me realize we can't go on like we have been."

"Are you breaking up with me? Now?" Dayna's eyes were huge, and Tim was horrified to realize she was about to start crying.

"No. I just can't ..."

Dayna broke in "You want me to quit? Is that it? You want me to stop being a cop, do something safer?"

"What the hell do they have you on? You should be barely awake, and instead you're bouncing off walls, you're jumping to conclusions, and you won't let me get a word in edgewise. Sit down and shut up, I've got some things to say. The first is that I love you. I've never told you before, and I know you already knew that, but I should have said it a long time before now. The next thing is: I want us to move in together. I know we've only been together a little while, but this is where we're heading, right?" He waited for Dayna to nod, and then went on, "So let's stop wasting time, because this has made me realize that every minute is precious, and I don't want to be away from you for any time that I don't have to be."

"You love me?" Speed could hardly hear Dayna, whose voice came out small and unsure.

"Of course I love you. You knew that."

"I didn't know that," Dayna said, her grey eyes watching Tim's face. "I knew that I'm in love with you, but you're brilliant and funny and strong and kind and handsome. Why would you love me?"

Speed lost the rest of his speech. _Hearing it makes it better. She's never told me she loves me before, either._ "Why do I love you? Because you're Dayna Campbell. I had no choice but to love you from the second you entered my life. Because your laugh was the first sound my soul ever heard."

There was a cough from the door behind Tim. He looked and saw a male doctor and female nurse at the entrance of the room. "I see my patient is awake. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to examine her, see where things stand."

Tim looked back at Dayna, and was alarmed to see her wiping her eyes with her fingers. "Dayna? You're crying. Did I upset you?"

"No. I'm not upset; I'm a girl. It happens sometimes, we just start crying when men manage to say exactly the right thing." Dayna said.

"I'll let you know when you can come back in," the nurse said, taking Tim by his arm and gently maneuvering him out the door. She gave his arm a squeeze before letting go and closing the door on him.

* * *

Alexx was the one who got Dayna back into the hospital bed. When Speed called the lab to tell them Dayna was awake, Alexx volunteered to come down and keep Tim company. _It's the mother/doctor combination, that's got to be it._ The hospital doctors, nurses and random staff had all tried to get Dayna back to the safety of the bed, without success. Tim tried as well, but was as firmly told to get out the way. Alexx walked in like some goddess of serenity, and – firmly and lovingly – told Dayna that she was a danger to herself, her case, and anyone around her right now. Dayna meekly climbed back into bed, and agreed to Alexx's twenty-four hour edict. If, after that time frame, everything continued to look fine, Alexx agreed that Dayna could rejoin the investigation. Since Alexx was 1. not Dayna's doctor, 2. not Dayna's superior on the force, 3. was in no way involved (discounting the dead bodies) with the case, and 4. had no acknowledged power in the investigation, the smooth manner in which she dictated the conditions to Dayna left Tim confused and grateful.

"Care to tell me how you do that? Might come in handy later," he said.

"I call it my 'just so' voice. I'm just telling people the way it's going to be. It takes years of practice, but is well worth it."

"Will you teach me?"

"No, honey. That one you have to learn on your own," Alexx said. She smiled and left the hospital, her work done.

* * *

Speed was there for round two of the interrogation; Dayna had insisted. They had managed to get the kid's name: Chad Brecks.

"What I want to know is why you're protecting a guy who's hurting your friends?" Tim asked Brecks. "Why are you protecting Adamson? Is it because you're scared of him?"

The night spent in a cell had obviously tired the boy out, "Man, I ain't scared of nothin'," the kid said, snarling at the perceived insult to his pride.

"Have them lose a little sleep, and teenagers are the easiest people in the world to provoke. Now that you've broken you're little vow of silence, let's get to work," Tripp said. He uncrossed his arms, and leaned on the table, hovering over the shooter. "Why did you shoot Detective Campbell? That was stupid, stupid on a major scale. If you're hoping the judge will give you to juvie, think again. Attempting to kill a cop will get you tried as an adult, guaranteed. You're only hope is us."

"You think I'm scared of prison? I'm the master of the arena! Prison is nothing," the kid grinned. "I've been there the longest, and I've never been put down. I can't be beat. You cops think you can stop it? You and your punk-ass badges? You think it's something bad? I've never had it so good. I've got food, a bed to sleep on, bitches on demand."

Horatio came out of the shadows from the back of the room, "What is it, exactly, that you think we're trying to stop? You're here for shooting a cop. Anything else that's going on has our blessing. You think Adamson is the only one who's in on this? You never heard of the brotherhood? But you've crossed that brotherhood now, tried to kill one of our own. So you tell us everything you know. We're already going to know some of it, and if you tell us wrong, you're going down. Believe it. Believe me."

Speed looked at H, not believing his normal, subtle style had been so corrupted. Surely even this kid could see through that ruse. But no, the kid started talking. Later, Horatio explained that if you're talking to a dumb person, using smart tactics is a waste of time. You have to get on the same level, and this guy had never been given a chance to get smart.

Adamson wasn't a murderer; at least not in the conventional sense. Bloodsport had come to Miami: Rich patrons watching people fight, sometimes to the death. This incarnation had children killing children, a twist to keep the crowds interested and happy. They were armed with knives, and sent to carve one another up, gladiator style. In the end, it was the crowds who decided if the loser would live or be dispatched. Adamson kept the games supplied with fighters, taking the street kids and feeding them to the machine.

"We call it the Arena. People like us, we always have to fight for anything we got, even living. This way at least when I win, I can stop fighting until the next week."

Speed looked at the two other men in the room. Horatio looked ready to kill Adamson with his hands; Tripp's eyes were flashing like Death had entered his soul. Speed remembered that Tripp had three children, and so was hearing this as a father as well as a cop. Speed felt sick himself, disgusted there were enough sociopaths in Miami to make this a profitable venture. _Sociopaths with money._

"Where is this 'arena'? Where are the others like you, the other fighters? How long until the next fight?" Horatio asked, hands on his hips. He had his eyes fixed on Chad's, so intense that Brecks dropped his gaze to the table.

"They move us around all the time. One time is at the beach, the next at a big building, one time a construction site, one time a boxing ring. They keep the us together, always someplace near the next fighting place. The next fight isn't for a couple of days."

"Okay, Chad, you're doing fine. Now, where's the next fight going to be?" Horatio pressed.

"I don't know," Brecks answered.

"Oh, and we were doing so well. Sorry, Brecks, I'm going to throw you to the DA now. I hope you meant it when you said prison -- with it's hundreds of big, lonely men just aching for a young buck like yourself – doesn't scare you. Let's go," Tripp grabbed the kid by the arm, started to lift him up.

"I said I don't know. Hey, get off of me," Chad tried to hit Tripp, but with his hands cuffed together in front of him couldn't pull it off.

"Tripp, hold off a minute." Horatio said. Tripp dumped the shooter back into the chair. "Chad, if you don't know where they are now, how were you going to get back? Were they letting you go?"

"They couldn't let me go, I'm their star. I was going to meet them in the park, near the fountain."

Horatio smiled at him, "Fine. Which park, which fountain?"

"I don't know. I can show you how to get there, though," the sixteen year old said.

"Yeah, we'll be going with you, make sure you get back okay. In the meantime, let's talk about these two bodies." Speed said. He pushed the pictures of the two homeless over to Brecks.

Chad looked at the picture of the first John Doe. "Man, he was my friend. He called himself Fish, I never did find out why. He got my back on the street for years. He's the only one it was hard to put down."

"It was so hard to put him down you stabbed him four times in the chest," Horatio said.

"Yeah. I was shaking so bad I couldn't get in a clean shot. I tried to make it up to him, before the end. Gave him some drink, but I don't think he could even taste it."

"Why did we find him on the highway?" Speed asked.

"I dunno, man. That's not the way it's supposed to happen. I guess he fell out."

"Fell out? Fell out of what, exactly?" Speed felt like he was pulling a rope, hand over hand. Each answer they got out of this guy got them one step closer to shutting down this hell they had stumbled into.

"The truck. They haul off the bodies in a truck."

"What do they do with the bodies, after they take them away?" Speed asked.

"They bury them. We've all been to the graves at least once. It shows us how everyone ends up, sooner or later. Sooner, if we try to run."

"And that brings us to our second John Doe. What can you tell me about him?" Speed moved the second picture closer to the kid.

"That dumb-ass? He couldn't get his head straight. Good fighter, but he thought he was in love. Couldn't stop talking about his woman. Ran one night, could've ruined it for everyone. Got hisself shot down in front of God and everyone, I hear."

"What was his girlfriend's name?"

"Tracy. He got shot right in front of her, too. That's why she helped me take care of that ... cop." Chad's voice trailed off, and he started darting glances at the three men in the room with him.

Speed couldn't talk for a second, busy controlling his anger. Horatio put his hand on Tim's shoulder, squeezing in understanding.

"She hates cops because it was a cop who gunned down her lover, right?" Horatio said, taking over the talking while Speedle regained control of himself.

"Gentlemen, that is enough of that." A man in an expensive Italian suit walked into the room. "I am Harrison Glithe, and I'll be representing Mr. Brecks. Chad, you do not say another word to these men. I've got the paperwork started, and I'll have you out of here in a few minutes."

"I doubt that. You're client shot a cop, and it was witnessed by another police detective. You're not going anywhere," Horatio addressed this last to Chad himself.

"I beg to differ, Lieutenant Caine. You've kept my client in here, interrogating him without his representation."

"He never asked for a lawyer, and he was read, and understood his rights," Horatio interrupted.

"He had representation in place, a question I'll bet you never thought to ask him. You'll let him go, or I'll have this looking like the biggest civil rights scandal since the student shootings of the sixties. That will be the DA."

Glithe was referring to Tripp's cell phone, which had begun to chime. He answered it, eyes locked with the lawyers. He ended the call saying, "Yes, sir." He snapped his phone closed, and walked around to unlock the cuffs from the criminal. "You are free to go."

"Thank you gentlemen. If you'll excuse us ..."

"Mr. Glithe," Speed asked.

The attorney turned around, his face tranquil, "Yes, detective?"

"Brecks here can hardly afford your services. How did you come to be his lawyer?"

"That's none of your business, detective. But I'll tell you anyway. Ten percent of my cases are pro bono. Just because someone doesn't have money, doesn't mean they don't have the right to the best possible defense. I'm well compensated by the other ninety percent, so I can afford a little charity work. Good day gentlemen."

_Ninety percent of his clients. Those would be the people who need a criminal lawyer, and can afford Glithe's services. Sociopaths with money._

"He's part of it."


	11. Part Ten

* * *

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Ten

It was only a few hours until Tim needed to get back to the hospital to bring Dayna home. He felt evenly torn between worry over his girlfriend, and the new need to find this nightmare lurking in the city. It wasn't too much later that he realized he didn't have to choose between the two worries; as soon as Dayna was told what they had collected so far, he would be able to worry about Dayna jumping into battle with the nightmare. _It'll be a much more efficient way to worry._

Calleigh had been watching Christian Adamson for the last few hours. Delko had just relieved her, and she was in the lab to make her report before heading home for some downtime. Speed had told her what they had discovered.

"We've got to figure out where the next place is," she said.

Tim blew out a frustrated breath. "We don't have any evidence to analyze, we don't have any witnesses to interrogate. Our main suspect is untouchable and the only thing we've got on Glithe is a gut instinct. Judges don't issue warrants based on 'I just know' and even if they did, Glithe would cut any evidence found on that warrant to shreds in court. And then he would turn around and sue the city. We're stuck."

Horatio's voice came from behind the two criminalists, "We better get unstuck right now." He came the rest of the way into the room, "Tripp has been suspended without pay pending an internal affairs investigation."

"What?" Speed asked.

"He had been given orders to leave the case alone, and he disobeyed them. Those same orders, by the way, have now been given to us."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Calleigh asked, watching Horatio closely.

"That means we need to get this done now. Cal, what did Adamson do today?" Horatio turned to the blonde. Speed looked at her, hungry for anything they could use.

"Everything was normal, same as it's been the entire time we've had him under surveillance," she told them.

"Was there ever a time you lost him?" Horatio asked.

"Hardly."

"Sorry. Okay, then, a time when he was inside a building and you sat in the car for a notable amount of time, waiting for him to come back out?" Horatio asked.

"Or was there anytime he was in, or near, a park?" Speed added.

"Yes," Calleigh said, the word drawn out as she thought about the question. "There was a call to investigate an altercation in a business office. Adamson was less than a block away from the building; he called dispatch and said he'd take care of it. He told them he didn't think any uniforms would be necessary. But the call came over the scanner, I heard it. The call was legit – but the offices are right next to Bayfront Park.

"Dispatch may have legitimately sent that call, but I don't believe the 911 call could have been real. Cal, you follow up, see if there's any paperwork Adamson filed, any arrests made – I might be wrong, find out if I am," Horatio told her. He turned to his senior CSI, "Speed, how many fountains in Bayfront Park?"

Speed pulled over the research laptop kept in the lab. He pulled up a secure city database, and said, "Three. That's still two too many. Hey, H, check me on this: Brecks is a functional illiterate, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. So he couldn't read to see what fountain he was at, it would have been described to him," Horatio said.

Speed pulled up pictures of the three fountains, and clicked on the thumbnails one at a time to make them bigger. The first fountain was an arch, the water flowing down from the center. The second had a horse rearing out from the water. "I'm leaning towards the third one, myself." The last was a fountain in a classical style, with a woman wearing an ill-concealing shift. She was pouring water from an urn held under her right arm, her left hand supporting the neck. "Which do you think the bosses of the outfit would trust him to remember? An arc, a horse, or the one with the breasts?"

Horatio put on his sunglasses, and said, "Let's go."

* * *

"Of course, Brecks isn't the only one who likes topless women," Speed said, looking at the ground around the fountain. There were scores of footprints around the base, far too many to count, much less process.

"You can expect people to gather at a fountain, with expected things around it. Look for what shouldn't be here." Horatio said, shining his flashlight at the ground around the fountain. They had cordoned off the area, difficult to do with no officers around to help control the curious. Since they were here "unofficially" they couldn't call for their normal help. Horatio was taking the fountain itself, and the area around it. Speed decided to go a little further afield, look around the benches in the area, and around the trees.

"Horatio, I think I've found it," he called over. He was looking under one of the trees, seeing evidence that one person had stood there for a little time alone. There were no other prints around the tree, and it had a view of the entire fountain. There was sand in the prints, but it was whitish, not the typical yellow sand from the beach or playground. Speed collected the sand, and Horatio made a cast of the prints.

After Tim checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes, Horatio looked up at him from his position on the ground. "I'll run these, Speed. Go to the hospital, go get Dayna, I'll see you tomorrow. Tell her what's going on, but don't let her hurt herself by getting involved again. Tell her she'll be there for the bust, but until then she needs to be resting. If she gives you a hard time, tell her to call me; I'll pull rank on her if I have to," H said.

"That's rich, since we're all working off the department radar here. If we get caught, you won't have any rank left," Speed said. "Horatio, this job is your life. I'm younger, I can move on. Why don't I run with this?"

Horatio stood up and smiled at the younger man. "Thank you for that, Speed, really. But the most important part of my job, my life, is protecting you and the rest of the team. To get to you, they go through me. I can't guarantee you much in this life, but I can promise you this: as long as we're both alive, I've got your back. Now go get Dayna, and sit on her until tomorrow."

* * *

"How is she?" Horatio asked the next morning.

_Insatiable. Wrapped practically head to toe in bandages and still wants to make love._

"She's fine. She was sleeping when I left this morning. I promised to call her if we find out the when and where," Speed said.

"We now know the where."

"We do? How?" Speed asked.

"The sand you found. I'm already familiar with it, from a case a few years ago. You remember the sniper?"

"Yeah, not exactly the kind of thing you can forget," Speed said.

"The next fight is going to be in that sniper's coral quarry."

"You're kidding. I guess it makes sense; the same things that made it good for the shooter would make it ideal for an arena. Plenty of cover noise, isolated, room for the spectators. How do we find out when?"

"We watch. We could go there now, but that wouldn't get us any of the watchers who encourage this filth. I want them as much as I want Adamson and Glithe. I've pulled the surveillance off of Adamson, and moved it to the quarry. Tripp is out there now."

"Tripp?"

"Yes, he can no longer work with the investigation, but he still wants to help."

"So now we just wait?" Speed asked.

"Wait and work evidence. This case isn't the only crime in Miami, just the ugliest. I'm picked up the trace from their cases, and sent them both home to rest up. I could use your help."

Speed nodded, "You got it."

* * *

A couple of hours later Speed closed his cell phone with a snap. Dayna wasn't picking up the house phone or her cell. As much as Tim would've liked to think she was still asleep, he found that hard to believe.

_She's fine, she's shown you that. She's probably out running a marathon or something._ Speed as running tests on the evidence Calleigh and Eric had collected on their cases. Putting Dayna aside in his thoughts he got back to work. _I'll try again in a little while._

Speed tried several more times, but didn't get in touch with her. He was worried to the point of heading home and/or putting out an all points bulletin when she called him.

"It's lunchtime. You want to get something to eat?" she asked.

"That sounds nice. I was getting worried when you didn't pick up, have you been asleep all this time?"

"No, I've been running around all morning; I had some errands to take care of."

"Babe, you can't be doing that. You need time to recover."

Dayna laughed a little, "Honey, I'm fine. If I weren't fine they wouldn't have let me out of the hospital. And the pain meds they have me on are great. I don't feel a thing. I don't feel high, but no pain either."

Speed rolled his eyes, but she couldn't see it. "It doesn't matter if you feel it or not, your body needs to heal. Let's get some lunch, but then I want you to go home and rest. Please?"

"Tim, really ..."

"I'll tell Alexx ..." Speed played penultimate card.

"That is so cheating. Okay, fine, but I'm going to remember this, Timothy Speedle."

"Remember all you want, as long as you get some rest. I'll meet you at Valentino's?"

* * *

Speed came back into the lab after lunch to find Tripp waiting for him.

"I thought you were watching the quarry."

"Horatio relieved me. I had to come back to town to pick up my badge and weapon."

Speed's eyebrows rose. "They've lifted the suspension?" he asked.

"Dropped the whole thing. No time without pay, no internal affairs investigation, and they've given all of us their blessing in shutting this place down. When we give the word, we'll have all the back-up we need. Until then, though, we're keeping it under wraps. We don't want word to get back to Adamson and company."

"How did this happen?" Speed asked the older man.

"I dunno. We'll have to find that out later, because I think this is going down tonight. They were setting up lights and seating areas when I left."

"I'll be ready," Speed said. "Does Dayna know?"

"Campbell? You can't be serious, man. She just got out of the hospital yesterday. She's not in any shape to be taking these people down."

"You're right. I'm calling her anyway, though. I promised she would be in on the bust, and I'm not going to start lying to her now."

"Alright Speedle, I just hope you know what you're doing."

_Me too._

* * *

It was Speed's turn to watch the quarry. He crawled the last few feet, keeping low to the ground and settled next to Horatio. Horatio passed him a pair a binoculars, pointing out the men working on the far side of the quarry. They seemed to be having problems with a huge tarp.

"That answers how they were going to light this place up and hope no airplanes would notice. They've got a damn circus tent they're putting up. No one from the air is going to see anything," Horatio said.

"I've got another question that needs answering," Speed said.

Horatio looked at him, "Just one?"

Speed looked at him, unsmiling. "Who are we going to arrest?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we going to arrest the kids? They were taken from the streets, away from everything they knew, and thrown into a situation where they had to kill to survive. Some of them have embraced it, like Brecks. Added to that, most of them are underage. And if we decide to let the kids go, what are we returning them to? A life on the streets, where they could be alcoholics by the time they're fifteen? So I'm asking, who do we arrest?"

Horatio pulled his sunglasses off, and looked at Speedle. He looked disturbed for a minute, then nodded. "This is what we're going to do. We're taking everyone into custody. The DA can decide who they want to charge and who they want to set free. Some of these kids have families who love them, and want them back. As for the ones who don't have any family and aren't going to be charged ... they'll probably become wards of the state." Horatio saw Speedle's face harden at that. "I don't know what's going to happen to them, but we need to try and have it be a better life than they had before. First things first, we need to get them out of there."

"Two hours until sunset, probably a couple of hours after that they plan to start. We need to time this right: The maximum possible number of spectators, but before the first round starts," Speed said. "Why don't you take off, I'll call you when things start to heat up."

* * *

He was only alone for an hour. Dayna was the first to join him on his ledge, moving slowly despite her claims of no pain. She waved away his concerned look.

"The others are starting to trickle into position. We're being careful to stay unseen, so it's going a bit more slowly than I would like, but when the time comes we're going to be ready. Do you think the society people are going to fashionable late?"

"I'm sure we'll miss a few who aren't interested in the first fights, or some who just couldn't make tonight's fighting for some reason. They're going to wake up tomorrow and think they are the luckiest people alive," Speed said.

"I wonder how many of the ones we do pick up tonight will walk away from this scot-free. Money is the best defense." Dayna stared down at the pit, anger radiating from her, "Damn, but I'm depressing. To listen to me, you would think we weren't about to strike a blow for truth, freedom, and the American way."

"You forgot Mom's apple pie," Speed started to put his hand on her back, but stopped himself when he remembered she was still heavily bandaged. "The fallout is going to be an all new hell we're going to have to go through. The realist in you is just trying to manage your expectations. The alternative is to turn our backs – so we'll deal with the new hell."

They were on the ledge for hours, as the sun set, and the concealing tent was put up. The lights for the fight were turned on, and even from the ledge the two cops could hear the children crying. The cars started pulling into the quarry, disgorging people dressed for a night out. The people were dressed in everything from club clothes to tuxedos and evening dresses. Speed was surprised at how many women were walking into the tent.

"This is going to turn into a riot when we show up," Dayna said.

"I'm more worried about a stampede. This is going to get very ugly, with lots of potential for blood. Eric's taking car of disabling the cars, so everyone we deal with will be on foot. That'll help." Speed's adrenaline was starting to flow, his body tense with anticipation. When Horatio and Tripp scrambled up, it was almost a relief to know that every thing was about to start.

"Tripp, glad to see you're back on the job," Dayna said.

"You, too. You gave us quite a scare," Tripp said.

"Sorry about that."

Tripp managed a small smile. "Well, just don't do it again," he said.

"It looks like we're up. Let's go," Horatio said, taking the binoculars down from his eyes, a raising the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Go. Go. Go."

* * *

The hardest part was the kids. Most of them looked at the raiders as saviors, crying and cheering. Not all of them, though. All of them were armed with knives, and bulletproof vests don't stop bladed weapons. Two of the teenagers methodically stabbed the cops who were trying to help them. They were both shot down, bloody knives dripping as they prepared to double team an officer who had his back to them.

Most of the spectators were armed with guns, and there was a scramble to get the children out of the line of fire, while returning that fire.

In the end, the majority of the casualties were police officers, and those mostly from the very people they were trying to save. There were no cop deaths, and the two fighters who were intent on killing the officers. The audience members surrendered, trusting to their lawyer to save them.

It was the fighters who showed the criminalists where the bodies were buried. Only a few remembered how to get there, but it was enough for the team to find the graves; there were over a dozen.

Alexx was called to the scene, and when she saw the number of bodies she called her husband. "Hug our kids, and don't expect me home tonight. I love you," she said. She corralled every transporter into almost assembly line efficiently. She did a preliminary investigation on each body, gave them the order to leave, and moved onto the next one.

While Alexx was working on the bodies, Horatio was busy trying to find who owned the land that had been used as a dumping ground.

"Speed?"

"Yeah?" Speed walked over to H, who had just shut his cell phone.

"This land belongs to Harrison Glithe. That's enough to get a warrant for him. Would you like to be there when we pick him up?"

Speed grinned at his boss, "Absolutely. What about Adamson?"

"Adamson is currently cuffed in a patrol car. He'll be the last one brought in, we need to keep him off paper for as long as possible. As soon as he's officially in custody his protectors will start pulling strings to have him released. I'm trying to delay that as long as possible."

* * *

Glithe was picked up, but was released on bail shortly thereafter. He had kept his mouth shut during the interrogation, and told the judge, "Any bodies being buried on my land was done completely without my knowledge." He was convincing enough. He did not, however, show up to represent any of his clients who were brought in during the raid.

Adamson was sitting in the interrogation room when Speed and Horatio got back to the labs. He was furious and smug, a difficult combination to pull off.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing? Your careers are over, do you hear me? Over. I've got friends in high places."

"No, actually, you don't," Dayna's voice came from the doorway. "Would you like to know about my day today?" She asked as she walked past Horatio and Speed and sat at the table, directly across from Christian Adamson.

"Why would I give a good God damn what you did today?" Adamson said, spitting the words.

"Because it involves you quite intimately. This morning I broke into your house."

Adamson froze, staring at Campbell. Both Horatio and Speed turned to stare at her.

Dayna continued, "I found your hidden room. And then I found your hidden safe in your hidden room. I had to call in some favors to get that puppy open. But in the end, everything you had over the brass – the photos, the negatives, the videos – everything you had, on every person on your little list, is now mine. I spent the rest of the morning visiting each and every one of them. They have all retired or resigned, effective no later than tomorrow."

Adamson had gone sheet white. "You can't do that, it's illegal," he managed to get out.

"You are absolutely right. If I were you, I'd call a cop. You should definitely press charges."

"You didn't have a warrant, everything you found is inadmissible," he said, grasping at straws.

"Adamson, you aren't being arrested for blackmail. I don't need any of your trash in a court."

"So that's how Tripp got his badge back," Horatio murmured to himself.

Dayna looked at him and nodded. She looked back at Adamson, who seemed to be having some difficultly breathing.

"Dayna, you shouldn't have done it. There are other ways, less dangerous ways. You've stepped on a very slippery slope," Horatio said.

"I know, and I wasn't going to do it. But then I got shot, Tripp got suspended, and Adamson was still killing kids. Sometimes you've got to fight fire with fire."

"We will talk about this later, Campbell, at great length," Horatio said, then he turned to Adamson. "Now that you're on your own, your only hope is to come clean. If you give us Glithe, I'm pretty sure the DA will be appreciative."

"There's no way these charges are going to disappear and you know it," Adamson said.

"What you need to focus on right now is survival. Giving us Glithe is the only hope you have of avoiding the death penalty, and you know it," Horatio said, throwing Adamson's phrase back. "He has, by the way, disappeared and left you standing alone. Loyalty has never been one of your strong suits, Adamson; don't try to learn it now."

* * *

Adamson had talked, to the surprise of no one. Glithe had gotten the audience, Adamson the fighters. The bodies were buried on Glithe's land at Adamson's insistence. Since he was being seen, all the risk was his. This was supposed to even up the risks, guarantee that they would back each other up ... but it didn't work out that way. Adamson placed under arrest for charges ranging from kidnapping to murder, and would only avoid the death penalty if Glithe was found and brought to trial with him.

"All in all, a good day," Speed said as he and Dayna walked to his bike, ready to go home. He had his arm over her shoulders, she had her arm around his waist. "Are you okay?"

"I will be. I'm taking a while off of work to heal up, and think about some things," Dayna said.

Speed pulled her over a little, far enough to kiss her head. "Think about what you did to Adamson?"

There was a hesitation before Dayna said, "Yeah. I crossed the line, Speed. I broke the law, the same law I've dedicated my life to. I don't know how I'll be able to live with that."

"You'll live with it because you have to, it's as simple as that. You can resign if you want, but I don't think you should. You're a good cop, no matter what you're feeling right now."

"What happens the next time it looks like we can't catch a criminal through the law? What do I do then, plant evidence? Horatio is right, I've stepped on a slippery slope, and I can feel the ground sliding beneath me."

"Okay," Tim stopped and turned Dayna towards him. "Here's what you're going to do. You are going to make me a promise. This isn't going to be the kind of promise you can break, or take back, or annul, or anything like that. I want you to promise me you will never do anything like that again, ever, no matter what the provocation."

"Tim, I don't know ..." Dayna stopped for a second, then said, "I promise you I will never go outside the law to solve a case again.

"If you ever break your word to me, not only will you and I be through, but I'll arrest you myself, and I don't care what justification you try to give me. And that's my promise to you." He put his arm back around Dayna's shoulders, and they started walking again.

"That was pretty good," Dayna told him.

"Thank you, I was rather proud of the way I handled that myself," Speed said, a small smirk on his lips. "I meant it, though. I've never lied to you, and I never will, so don't think this was just about making you feel better."

Dayna nodded. They reached the bike, but before they climbed on Tim touched Dayna's arm gently, "Hey, want to do something with me tomorrow?"

"I was planning on doing something with you tonight," Dayna said. She added, "What do you have in mind?"

"Apartment shopping."


	12. Epilogue

A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Epilogue

The only part of the story that Speed isn't present for.

Harrison Glithe had been driving for days, keeping to the back roads, paying cash for everything. He had finally realized where he should go. One of his clients had invited him out to his ranch. Glithe could still remember how to get there, and it would be abandoned now, the man and his family were in Europe. He was even headed in the right direction, although for him right now the right direction was simply 'away from Miami.'

He arrived at the ranch two days later. He had ditched his Mercedes and gotten a used Honda that coughed if asked to go above seventy miles per hour, so that had slowed him down. Still, as he pulled into the drive, he felt good. He was on the run, everything important to him was gone, but he was safe here, he could regroup and come back stronger. With his knowledge of the law, it wouldn't take long for him to get back on top. He risked a trip to the local grocery store, raided his clients wine rack, and cooked himself an elegant dinner. He explored the house for a while, and then climbed into the master bed. It was the first time since the raid he was going to be able to sleep.

Voices, that's what woke him up. Well, voice singular, really. Someone was singing in the house. As Glithe swam towards consciousness he realized the singing wasn't coming form inside the house, it was coming from inside the bedroom. His eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright in the bed. There were three men surrounding him, dressed from head to toe in black, each armed with some sort of machine gun, which was aimed at his head. He could see the red beams emanating from the sights, angled to aim at his face. There was a fourth man in the room, sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed. He had longish hair, which threatened to hang in his eyes. He was wearing a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair a blue jeans, and boots. The boots were propped up on the bed, resting ankles crossed.

"You awake? Good. Howdy, Glithe. We've been waiting for ya." The man's voice was jovial, and he smiled good naturedly at Glithe. "I'm Lindsey. You don't know me, but I think you know my partner, Dayna Campbell. She said you'd be heading out this way."

"How? How could she ..."

"How could she figure out where you were going to go?" Lindsey gave a little shake of his head and shrugged. He swung his legs down and stood up. He said, "She amazing that way. Give her a little while to climb into someone's head, and there's no end to what she can figure out. You know, one time in Miami she figured out that a perp was staying with his sister-in-law's brother's house. She's the best. Speaking of Dayna, I understand you arranged for her to be shot." Lindsey's smile stayed put, but had taken on a very sinister air. "Get out of that bed, put your hands on top of your head, get down on your knees. You're under arrest, and you will be transported back to Miami to stand trial. Believe me when I say, you will make my day if you attempt to resist or to flee."

Glithe obeyed to the letter. He was cuffed and brought out to the squad car outside.

Lindsey pulled out his phone, and hit a speed dial.

"Dayna? We've got him."


End file.
